


Little People

by Gavroche_Lafayette, SkyFireForever



Series: Les Miserables OC stories [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Barricade Day, Canon Era, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Death, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Enjolras is a good brother, Enjolras is a terrible brother, F/F, F/M, Grantaire has depression, Grantaire is good, Homelessness, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Miscarriage, Multi, My First Fanfic, NaNoWriMo, Original Character Death(s), Past Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Physical Abuse, Revolution, Sibling Love, Slaves, So does everybody else, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, THIS WILL BREAK YOUR HEART, This is not the happiest fic, Tragedy, Verbal Abuse, enjolras has a sister, i am proud of her for writing this says a friend, it's cute though, much tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8488264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavroche_Lafayette/pseuds/Gavroche_Lafayette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: What if Enjolras had a little sister? What if she lived on the streets and got into trouble? What if she was there during the events of the story?I don't know how to summery, this is basically Les Miserables with OCs, it's much better than I make it sound, I promise.





	1. The Leader

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, this is my first Fanfic that I'm publishing. This started off as a school project. I'll update as I write. Please comment and stuff, learning how you take my work is important to me. :P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is expecting a brother. His friends tell him that he should be excited, but when something goes wrong, will Enjolras' feelings about a sibling change?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first published fanfiction and this is actually an idea I've had for awhile. I'll update as I write, probably. I mean, I have five chapters already written at the time that this was first published, but..*shrug* I might write more stories centered around my other OCs or that are connected to this story. Please review! It's important that I know what you like and don't like about this story so I can improve my writing! ^ ^ If you see any mistakes, let me know!

Enjolras sighed, picking apart the browning leaf he was fiddling with. He ripped it in half and looked up at the grey sky above, the cloudy weather seemed to reflect his sour mood. He wrapped his large coat tighter around his small body as a particularly cold gust of wind blew through his hair, making him shiver. He frowned and plucked a blade of grass from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

  
“I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. I have seven brothers, remember? You only have to have one.” Combeferre pointed out, adjusting his glasses. He looked over at the blond and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “It isn’t the end of the world. You might actually like having a sibling.” he said hopefully. He frowned when his friend’s face only darkened. He sighed and let himself fall back, cushioned by the grass beneath him. “Brothers aren’t all bad. You like Yves and Francis.” he pointed out, referring to two of his own brothers.

  
“That’s because Yves is two and Francis is cool.” Courfeyrac chirped up, lifting his head off of the ground. “Plus, Francis has ‘France’ in the name.” he teased, grinning at Enjolras. “But ‘Ferre is right. You get to have a little brother. You’re both so lucky. I wish I had a brother.” he pouted. He rolled onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head. He grinned up at the sky. “I would make the best big brother ever! I could teach him all sorts of cool things! It would be great!”

  
Combeferre laughed and pulled himself onto his elbows. “Well, I wish that I had a sister. I have way too many brothers. A sister might be nice.” he said thoughtfully. With his mother newly pregnant, he was hoping for a girl. It was too soon for her to show signs of the child being either sex, but Combeferre had his fingers crossed. He smiled up at Enjolras, it was interesting that their mothers were both having children the same year, but it was also exciting. This would be Enjolras’ first sibling and they would be born the same year as Combeferre’s newest sibling. Their siblings would practically be siblings themselves, given how close the two boys were. The Enjolrases were expecting a boy, based on the way the pregnancy was carried, and his parents couldn’t be happier. They had been trying for another child for years, but nothing had become of it until now. They had wanted another son for so long and now it seemed that they would be getting their wish, much to Enjolras’ disappointment.

  
“Why would you want a sister?” Courfeyrac asked curiously. “Boys are so much better! You can’t teach a girl the same things that you can teach a boy. You can’t do as much with them. All girls do is play with dolls, cook, and clean. Where’s the fun in that?” he asked. He didn’t understand why Combeferre would want a sister. “What about you, would you rather have a brother or a sister?” he asked, looking up at Enjolras.

  
Enjolras glared at Courfeyrac. “I don’t want a sibling.” he said simply, something that his friends were already aware of. “I’m already too busy, I don’t need a child running around on top of my studies.” he explained, fiddling with the blade of grass. “A sibling would just get in the way, it doesn’t matter the sex.”  
Combeferre rolled his eyes and sat up fully. “Alright, I understand that, but you’re having a sibling anyway. There’s nothing you can do about that.” he pointed out. “If you could choose for them to be a girl or a boy, what would you choose?” he asked. “If you had to.”

  
Enjolras sighed. “I can’t choose. I have no say in the matter. This is hypothetical and pointless.” he complained. He sighed and leaned against the tree they sat under. “I suppose that I would choose a brother.” he said at last. “Girls are pointless, weak, they have simple minds and aren’t capable of much.” he reasoned. “I would at least like to have a sibling who could think for themselves when they’re older. Girls can’t do that.” he said simply, shrugging. “So, I suppose it’s good that it will at least be a boy.” he muttered, throwing the blade of grass away. He sighed and stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. “Come on, Mama will probably be worried about us.” he said, looking towards his friends.

  
Courfeyrac nodded and hopped up, grinning widely. He ran his fingers through his curls and shook his head, trying to make sure that he didn’t have any leaves or grass in his hair. His mother hated it when he was dirty. He looked down at Combeferre and offered him his hand, grinning. Combeferre blushed softly and accepted Courfeyrac’s hand, standing up. “You have a…” he murmured, pointing at a leaf in Courf’s hair. When Courfeyrac just looked confused, Combeferre sighed. “Here.” he said, plucking the leaf from his hair. Courfeyrac’s cheeks turned a bit pink, but he grinned.

  
“Thank you!” Courfeyrac grinned, taking his friend’s hand in his own. The freckled boy grinned as his older friend blushed. Courfeyrac began walking towards Enjolras’ house, practically skipping all the way as Combeferre laughed, walking beside him. Enjolras trailed behind, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. He looked up at the dark clouds as he walked towards his family home. The boys were halfway there when it began to rain. Enjolras looked up and frowned as his blond curls started sticking to his head. He started sprinting towards the large house, not wanting to get wet.

  
“Come on!” the blond shouted at his friends, “Moma will kill me if I get mud on my clothes! Plus, it’s gross!” Enjolras complained, sloshing through mud as he ran. “We’re going to be late!” he shouted, sprinting. “Mom’s gonna be so mad.” he muttered to himself.

  
“Hah! It’s raining!” Courfeyrac shouted excitedly, a huge grin on his face. “I love rain!” his own curls were plastered to his face by the water, streams running down his face and off the tip of his nose. He giggled and began splashing into puddles, his shoes quickly becoming covered in mud. He took Combeferre’s hand, twirling him around in the muck. “Come on, ‘Ferre! Dance with me!” he laughed.

  
Combeferre blushed and laughed at his younger friend, his glasses soon becoming wet. “Courf, I can’t see!” he laughed, his vision impaired by the droplets on his glasses. “You’re getting dirty!”

  
“So?” Courfeyrac laughed loudly, “It’s fun!” he spun around and lost his footing, slipping and falling into a puddle. He yelled out in surprise as he splashed into the mud, becoming drenched in the filth. He looked down, picking up his mud covered hands. “Oh, sh-”

  
“I knew this would happen!” Enjolras shouted at him, crossing his arms. “Now you’re dirty! Moma’s going to kill you!” he yelled, jumping as he heard a crack of thunder. “Get up! We need to go!” he grabbed the younger boy’s hand and began sprinting towards his house, panting once they arrived. “You’re an idiot!” he screamed at the filthy boy.

  
Courfeyrac looked down at his ruined clothes, shivering slightly from the cold. “Oops?” he looked at Enjolras, who just rolled his eyes. The front door to the house opened and all three children looked up as Enjolras’ father stepped out.

  
“You’re wet!” he shouted. “And filthy!” he sighed and opened the door wide. “Get in, the slave will draw you all a bath.” he said as the boys walked inside single file. “Lucile!” Monsieur Enjolras called for his slave, who immediately appeared.

“Yes, sir?” she asked, keeping her head bowed and not looking her master in the eye.

  
“Draw the boys a bath.” Monsieur Enjolras ordered.

  
“Yes, right away, sir.” Lucile curtsied and left the room.

  
“Stupid slave.” Monsieur Enjolras muttered, leading the boys away from the entrance room. “Go to the bathroom, get yourselves washed before your mother sees.” he told the boys.

  
Enjolras nodded, leading his friends upstairs and into the bathroom before he began removing his clothing, his friends doing the same. The boys were soon washed and dried by the house slave, dressed in clothes befitting young men of their standing. Enjolras glared at his friends as they went to meet with his mother, happy that at least the subject of siblings had been dropped.

  
Months passed without Enjolras having to think much of his sibling to be. The only reminder was his mother’s stomach growing steadily larger. The boy continued to deflect questions and ignore the fact that he was going to be a brother. The child was to be born in a month and Enjolras was sure that if he could ignore the unborn child, the real thing would be just as easy to pretend didn't exist. The blond was sitting in the living room, reading a book on the sofa. His mother was speaking excitedly to his aunt about how her new baby boy would be strong and he would be put into military school. Enjolras tried his best to block her words out, fighting against his jealousy.

Suddenly, his mother stopped talking. “Are you alright?” his aunt asked, looking at her sister in-law worriedly.

  
“Yes, I’m fine.” Madame Enjolras said, waving the younger woman off. “That was just quite a strong kick. He gets feisty someti-” she stopped, clutching her stomach. “I-I think the baby’s coming.” she whispered.

  
The aunt’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible, the baby’s not due for another month at least!”

“He’s coming!” Madame Enjolras shouted, clutching her stomach. “Get Lucile!”

  
The slave was sent for and Madame Enjolras was carried to the bedroom, the sound of her screams could be heard throughout the entire house. Enjolras couldn’t block out her cries no matter how hard he tried and he began to grow worried. He couldn’t focus on his book, he couldn’t focus on anything besides his mother’s cries.  
It was hours later when Lucile finally emerged from the room, a small bundle in her arms. She looked at the young Enjolras. “You’re a brother now, sir.” she told him softly. “I don’t how long you’ll be one, though.” she said sadly, looking at the bundle. “She came too soon. She’s sick, very sick. She probably won’t make it through the night.”

  
“She?” Enjolras stood up. “Mama?”

  
Luciel shook her head. “Your sister.” she whispered, showing him the bundle. Inside, there was a small baby girl, much too small, her breathing heavy and forced. Enjolras looked at the small child and swallowed thickly. He hadn’t been expecting a sister, his parents had never wanted a girl. He hadn’t wanted a sibling at all and now he had one. He had a baby sister who was going to die before he could even know her.

  
Enjolras looked up. “What’s her name?” he asked.

  
“She doesn’t have one.” Lucile said. “Your mother refused to give her one. She didn’t want a girl and the child will probably die anyway.”

  
“Angelique.” Enjolras said after a long moment. “That’s the name of a character in my book. I like that name.” he said softly.

  
Lucile nodded and smiled. “Angelique Enjolras. That’s a wonderful name, sir.” she handed the bundle to the boy before returning to help her mistress.

  
Enjolras held his new sister in his arms all night, his parents wouldn’t even look at the child. Enjolras kept Angelique close, holding her and rocking her gently. She wasn’t supposed to even last the night. That thought made the blond much sadder than he thought it could, he hadn’t wanted a sibling in the first place, he should be happy that he wouldn’t have to deal with her, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t happy at all, he felt a warm feeling when he held his sister, when he looked at her. He cared about Angelique, despite only knowing her for a few hours. He loved her. He didn’t want her to die. That night, Angelique cried loudly in his arms, she sounded like she couldn’t breathe, every breath sounded pained.

  
Enjolras looked at his sister sadly and started singing softly. He sang her a soft lullaby until she fell asleep. The young boy soon fell asleep as well, still cradling his sister in his arms.

  
The child survived the night, much to everyone’s surprise. She survived the next day as well. And the next and the next and the next. No one expected her to survive the first night, but she survived for three years past it. Enjolras raised his younger sister, he fed her, clothed her, and took care of her. Their parents hated her, they had never wanted a daughter, girls were weak in their eyes. Weak and useless. The only time either of them would even look at the girl was when Madame Enjolras would breastfeed or when one of them was making her do all of the chores or yelling at her or beating her and telling her what a waste of space she was. The child was abused, beaten, and she wasn’t in the best physical shape to begin with. She was small, much smaller than other girls her age, she was constantly sick and weak. Bruises would last for weeks on her pale skin, scrapes and small cuts would last for days,and a small illness could render her bedridden.

  
It hurt Enjolras to see his sister like this, to see her in pain, but Angelique never let it bring her down. She grew up strong, courageous, and spirited. She didn’t care that she was a girl, she didn’t care that she was beaten. She was happy, she was brave. Enjolras admired that in his little sister, but it didn’t change the way things were. Enjolras was studying in the living room, studying the history of his homeland, his Patria. France was his one true love, he believed that completely, his heart could belong to no other. The only other woman he loved was his sister, who seemed to embody the spirit of the people within herself. The sixteen year old brushed his blond curls out of his face, looking over his book when he heard the familiar sound of his father’s yelling.

  
“You stupid, stupid girl!” Monsieur Enjolras shouted in the next room followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh. “You can’t even cook right! What’s the point of a girl who can’t cook?!” Enjolras flinched as he heard his father hit his sister again. “That’s all you’re supposed to be good for! Yet, you burned the eggs!” a loud thump told Enjolras that his sister fell to the floor. “You can’t even clean! You stupid girl! You can’t do anything!”

  
“I can too!” Enjolras flinched when he heard his sister talk back. “You just don’t care what I can do! I can’t cook or clean, but I can run and fight and read!” another slap.  
“You stupid girl, you can’t read! You can’t even count!” Monsieur Enjolras yelled.

  
“Yes, I can!” Angelique shouted. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix, onze-” she was cut off by another slap.

  
“Who taught you that?!” The monsieur sounded furious. “You shouldn’t know that!” Enjolras flinched, he had been teaching his sister basic numbers and letters since she was two. “Who taught you that?!”

  
“Lucy!” Angelique lied. She hated blaming the slave, but Lucile was the closest thing to a friend she had and she couldn’t sell out her brother. “She taught me numbers and letters!” she shouted.

  
There was series of hits, hard and fast, one after the other, Enjolras could hear his sister scream. “You bitch! You don’t deserve to read! You’re a good for nothing girl!” Enjolras paled when he heard a loud thunk, followed by a crack and an earsplitting scream. The footsteps retreated and Enjolras hurried to the other room to find his sister in a ball on the floor, sobbing.

  
“Angie?” Enjolras rushed to her, cradling her in his arms. “Angelique, are you okay? What did he do to you?” he examined her arm, realizing that it was bent at the wrong angle. The moment he touched the limb, the girl screamed. Enjolras swallowed thickly. “Hey, shh. Shh, I’m here. You’re alright.” he whispered. He picked the small child up, gathering her in his arms. “We’re going to go see ‘Ferre, okay. He’ll take care of you.” the blond comforted the redhead.

  
Enjolras sent for a carriage and took his sister to Combeferre’s house. Enjolras held the now unconscious girl tightly as he knocked on the door.

Their housemaid answered as always. “Monsieur Enjolras, welcome.” Sally smiled. “Please, come in.” she stepped aside.

  
“Thank you.” Enjolras sighed, placing Angelique on the sofa in the living room. “Will you please send for ‘Ferre?” he asked, holding his sister’s good hand.

  
Sally nodded and returned not long later with Combeferre right behind her. “Enjolras?” he looked at Angelique and rushed towards her. “What happened?”

  
“My father.” Enjolras muttered, standing back so his friend could examine her. “She burned the eggs and he went crazy.”

  
Combeferre nodded. “It hasn’t been the same since Liam.” he murmured. “Your parents weren’t exactly kind to her even before that.”

  
Enjolras nodded, looking away. Liam was his little brother, or he would’ve been. When his mother had gotten pregnant again, their parents had been overjoyed, they thought they would finally get the second son that they wanted. They had cleaned out Angelique’s nursery, thrown out all of her furniture and everything the two year old had owned. They replaced everything with new baby stuff for the new child. They had given Angelique a bed in the basement, but the new child had been stillborn. Their parents were inconsolable, they blamed Angelique. They thought that she was a curse, they believed that if she had died as an infant like she almost did, Liam would’ve lived. They hadn’t beat her before that, they just forced her to do whatever chores she could. “Liam wasn’t her fault.” he whispered.

  
“I know.” Combeferre said softly. “I know that it’s not her fault, she’s not a curse. Curses don’t exist. Your parents are bastards. You can’t blame anyone for a pregnancy going wrong.” he said softly. His family had gone through two miscarriages in his time. The first had been when he was two. The second had been the child who was supposed to have been born the same year as Angelique. The child had been a girl, but was stillborn. No one blamed anyone for that, no one could. Combeferre had gotten a new brother the next year and his mother was pregnant yet again, he was still hoping for a sister. “Death happens, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” Ferre sighed, examining Angelique’s arm. “It’s broken.” the medical student said. He sighed. “This is the third time this year.” he muttered. “Your parents are going to kill her if this continues.”

  
Enjolras looked at the unconscious girl. “I won’t let them. I can’t let them.” he said softly, thinking. “If you love something, let it go.” he said softly.

  
“Enjolras, what are you thinking?” Combeferre asked his friend.

  
“Anything is better than her being killed by our parents, kept as a slave. Wouldn’t it be better for her to die free?” he whispered. “At least she wouldn’t be kept by our parents.”

  
“Enjolras, what are you thinking?” Combeferre repeated.

  
“I’m going to let her go. I’ll free her.” Enjolras looked at his friend, seeing his expression of horror, he clarified. “I’m not going to kill her! I’m going to let her go, live on the streets.” he said.

  
“What? She’ll die! She’s a child, not even five yet! She wouldn’t survive on her own!” Combeferre said.

  
Enjolras looked at his sister sadly. “I know.” he whispered. “It’s better than being killed by her own parents.”

  
Combeferre swallowed and looked at the child, nodding. He brushed her red hair out of her face. “Okay.” he swallowed thickly. “At least let me make her a cast.”

  
Enjolras nodded. “A cast, food, and a blanket. I won’t send her out with nothing.” he said softly.

  
The boys waited for Angelique to wake up, staying with her the entire time. The child slowly stirred, wincing in pain. “What happened?” she murmured, sitting up.

  
“Hey, rest.” Enjolras said, pushing her so she was laying back down. “It was our father.”

  
“Oh.” Angie murmured, remembering. “He’s a jerk.”

  
Enjolras smiled. “Yeah, he is. That’s why you’re not going to be around him anymore.” he said.

  
Angelique looked confused “What?”

  
“I’m going to send you away, you’re going to find your own home.” Enjolras said softly.

  
“You’re sending me away?!” Angie’s eyes filled with tears. “What did I do?! I’ll be good!"

  
Enjolras sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I just want to keep you safe.” he said softly. “I’ll still be your brother, I’ll still be there for you.” he promised.

  
Angelique looked at him. “Pinky promise?” she held out her finger.

  
Enjolras smiled and linked his pinky with hers. “Pinky promise.”

  
Angelique grinned. “Okay!” she stood up. “I want a new home!” she said excitedly.

  
Enjolras looked at her sadly as Combeferre got a cast. “Not yet.” the medical student said. “We’ve got to put your cast on.” he said, putting it on her. “And we need to get you some stuff. I have food and blankets and clothes for you.” he stood up and grabbed some clothes from his youngest brother’s room. He was over a year younger than Angelique, but she was so small that the clothes would probably fit her. “Here.” he put the clothes in a bag and handed it to her.

  
Angie took it and grinned. “Thank you!”

  
Combeferre nodded and started grabbing blankets and pillows, putting them into the bag. He grabbed food and started putting that into the bag as well. “Here we go.” he smiled. “If you ever need anything, you can come here. We’ll have food and shelter, always.” he said, ruffling her hair.

  
Angelique grinned and nodded. “Thank you!” she looked at her brother, who smiled back at her.

  
“Thank you, ‘Ferre.” Enjolras said, leading his sister back to the carriage. The carriage took them to the middle of Paris. “This is your new home, Angie. Your new home, where you can make a new family.” he said.

  
“But you’ll still be my family, right?” Angelique asked.

  
Enjolras nodded. “Of course.” he said, hugging his sister tightly. “I’m going to miss you.” he said softly.

  
“It’ll be okay, I’ll see you!” Angie grinned. “I promise!” she looked at the giant elephant statue in the square, there were some children playing near it. She grinned and ran towards the other children.

  
Enjolras watched her sadly before returning to the carriage. He watched through the window as he returned to his house and Angelique started off towards her new home.


	2. The Boy from Montfermeil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelique meets a strange boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please review and comment! :)

Angelique didn’t die living on the streets, on the contrary, she thrived. She loved her new life, she loved her new home. She ran out of food fairly quickly and she didn’t have any money, so she soon resorted to stealing. It was the only way she could survive, she didn’t have a choice. It was fun, too. Living on the streets, she learned a lot about people. A lot of people were poor, a lot of people were starving, just like her. She also learned that it was the king's fault. The king was greedy and took away the poor people’s money, that’s what Angie’s brother told her. Enjolras said that the only way to help the people was to kick the king off of his throne. Angie agreed, they needed a better king and she knew just who to chose, herself. She had decided that she would make the best king ever. She was certain that she would be the king of France one day. She could help people that way, she could help the poor people like her. She frequently told her brother this and he argued that girls can only be princesses and queens. Angie had argued with him for a long time before he gave up and told her that she could be whatever she wanted. Enjolras didn’t know that Angelique was a thief, she never told him because she knew he’d be angry with her. She hated it when Enjolras was upset at her.

  
Angelique was walking down the street, looking for some food that she could steal, she had been living on the street for over a year and she had become quite good at stealing. She walked into a pastry shop, standing close to a couple who walked in at the same time so that it looked like they were her parents. She looked at a nearby danish, grabbing it and slipping it into her jacket pocket. She was dressed as a boy, her long red hair shoved into a hat. Angie walked out of the shop after pocketing the danish, following a different couple as they walked out. Just as she stepped out of the shop, she heard a loud boom and she looked up as she felt something wet hit her forehead. She saw the grey sky and immediately took off running towards her place of residence. She saw other people pull out umbrellas, but she didn’t own one. She had to run through the streets of Paris as it rained, getting thoroughly soaked. Eventually she reached her home, the Elephant of Bastille, a large hollowed out elephant statue in the middle of a square.

  
She ran towards the statue, taking shelter from the storm. Once she arrived, she was shocked to see a boy already there. The boy was clearly very young, but he was still taller than little Angelique. His dirty blond hair was soaking wet and water dripped into his blue eyes. He was shaking, most likely from the cold of the rain.

  
“Who are you?” Angelique asked rudely. “What are you doing here? This is my place, get out.” she crossed her arms.

  
“I-I just wanted to get o-out of the rain.” The boy said, shivering.

  
“Too bad, this place is mine.”

  
“I was h-here first!”

  
“I live here!” Angelique said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed a stick and used it to reach the loop in a rope hanging from the statue. She pulled it down and a trapdoor swung open. “See? This place is mine, I wrote my name inside.” she pointed to the trapdoor, which had a serious of illegible squiggles carved into it. Angie smirked as she climbed up the rope and into the hollow statue.

  
The boy looked up at her in surprise. “How can you climb all the way up there?” he asked, astonished.

  
Angie smirked. “Because I’m strong.”

  
“Can I come up?”

  
“No, this is my palace.”

  
“Palace?” the boy looked confused. “This isn’t a palace, it’s a statue.”

  
Angie sighed. “I’m a king, wherever the king lives is a palace.” she said like it was obvious.

  
“You’re a king?” The boy asked in awe. “The king of what?”

  
“France.” Angelique said proudly.

  
“Really?” the boy asked, astonished.

  
“Well, I will be.” Angelique said. “Eventually, once my brother overthrows the government.” she explained.

  
“Oh, well can I come into your palace?” the boy asked.

  
Angelique thought for a moment before nodding. “Climb the rope.” she told him. She watched as the boy attempted to climb, but he just fell down. Angelique sighed and went down a hidden staircase within the statue. Popping out of a small, hidden door at the bottom. “Come on.” she beckoned to the boy.

  
The boy looked at her in surprise, not expecting her to appear there. He nodded and followed her up the stairs, happy to be out of the rain. “Thank you.” he said, taking off his wet jacket when they reached the top.

  
Angelique closed the trap door and lit the small lantern she had inside the elephant, illuminating the space. A small blanket was spread out on the floor with another blanket on top of it and a small pillow rested on top of the crude bed. Other than that, there was aforementioned lantern and a single book that Angelique couldn't read. She took off her cap, throwing it to the ground and wringing out her hair. She turned and saw the boy’s face of shock. “What?”

  
“You-you’re a girl!” The boy said in astonishment.

  
“Uh, yeah?” Angie said, confused. “So?”

  
“You’re not wearing a dress!”

  
“So?” Angelique repeated.

  
“You said you’re going to be king!” The boy said. “Girls can’t be king!”

  
“Yes, I can!” Angelique crossed her arms. “I will be king! You can’t stop me!” she said stubbornly. “I’ll be the best king!”

  
“You can’t be king! You’re a girl! Girls can’t be king!” the boy said. “Princess or queen, maybe, but not king.” the boy said.

  
Angelique glared at him. “I can still kick you out of my palace.” she warned.

  
The boy put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry. You can be king.”

  
Angelique smirked and stood up taller. “Good.” she said smugly.

  
The boy looked at her. “You live in here?” he looked around.

  
Angie nodded and plopped down on her makeshift bed. “Yep.”

  
“Why do you live here? Why don’t you live with your mama and papa?” the boy asked.

  
Angie froze. “I don’t want to, that’s why. They’re mean, they don’t want a girl.” she muttered bitterly. “I left because they don’t want me. I’m doing them a favor. That’s what my big brother said.” Angie brushed her wet hair out of her face.

  
The boy looked at her for a moment before sitting beside her. “It’s okay, my parents were the same way. They never wanted a boy, they loved my sisters, though. Well, Mama did. Papa never really cared about anyone.” he said sadly. “That’s why I ran away. They beat me.” he said, pulling up his shirt and showing Angelique his scars.

  
Angelique touched one before raising her own shirt and showing the boy a large scar across her stomach. “My dad once cut me with a shard of a broken window.” she said. “I was two, it was when my baby brother died.” she said, putting her shirt back down. “Papa used to beat me a lot, Mama didn’t talk to me. She liked pretending I didn’t exist.” the girl hugged her knees to her chest.

  
The boy smiled softly and patted her on the back. He took off his shirt and showed her a scar on his side. “I got this when a customer dropped his knife and I tripped, I landed right on it.” he said.

  
Angie looked at him. “A customer?”

  
“My family ran an inn in Montfermeil, that’s a small town. Everyone knows everybody.” he said.

  
Angie nodded and lifted up her pant leg, pointing to a scar on her knee. “I got this when I first moved into the Elephant. I found this lantern and I tried to light it, but I dropped the match and it burned me.”

  
The boy showed her a scar on his hand. “I got bit by a dog.”

  
And so the day went on, it was spent with the children showing each other their scars and sharing the stories behind them. They compared scars and stories, laughing and feeling a little bit better about themselves at the end of it all. Angelique smiled. “You’re pretty alright, when I’m king, I might let you be my prince.” she said with a grin.

  
The boy smiled. “Okay!”

  
Angie grinned and stood up, dusting off her clothes. “Come on, I wanna show you something cool.” she went towards another part of the statue, climbing up a ladder and opening another trap door. She climbed up and sat on the top of the Elephant’s head. She crawled until she found a good spot and sat crossed legged, looking up.

  
The boy followed her, looking up and gasping. “Wow.” he murmured, crawling so that he was sitting next to the redhead. By now it was night and the children could look up at the stars in the night sky. “It’s amazing! You can see the whole city from up here!” the boy grinned.

  
Angie smiled. “I know.” she said smugly. “I like it up here.”

  
“How did you find this place?” the boy asked, looking around.

  
Angie shrugged. “I like exploring. I explored most of Paris before I found out that this place was hollow. I slept on the streets for months, then winter came.’ she looked down. “I got pneumonia, I almost died, I would’ve died if I didn’t find a place to stay, that and if I didn’t have ‘Ferre.” she said.

  
“Ferre?”

  
“He’s my big brother’s best friend, he’s a doctor. He saved my life.” Angie explained. “He took care of me, let me live with him and his family for a week, but then his father said I couldn’t stay. His family is all boys except for one girl, ‘Ferre’s little sister, Eve.” Angie looked up at the stars. “His Mama died when she gave birth to Evelyn, that’s Eve’s real name.” she explained.

  
“What did you do after Ferre’s family kicked you out?” the boy asked, laying on his stomach next to her.

  
“I lived with my brother’s other best friend, Courfeyrac. He’s nice and kind. He has two siblings, they’re twins. Jay and Belle. Jay is really fun to be around, but Belle doesn’t like me.” Angie frowned. “But eventually, their parents didn’t want me there either.” she laid on her back, crossing her arms behind her head.  
“Then I slept on the streets until I happened to find the trapdoor of this place. It was an accident, I almost got caught stealing a pair of nice gloves, I was running, looking for a place to hide, and I ran into the statue, I was looking for a way to climb it when I found the door to the stairs.” she said. She pulled the danish out of her pocket.

  
The boy nodded before seeing the danish. “Where did you get that?” he asked.

  
“I stole it.” Angie shrugged. “Earlier.” she took a bite. She noticed the boy staring at her like a begging puppy and she sighed, splitting the treat in half and handing one half to the boy. “Here.”

  
The boy perked up, accepting the pastry. “Thank you!” he devoured it quickly and Angie laughed, because he really did look like a puppy.

  
Angie giggled .”How old are you?”

  
“Four.” the boy said, wiping crumbs from his mouth.

  
“I’m five, I’ve been living on the streets for about a year.” Angie smiled,. “Hey, we’re kinda the same.”

  
The boy grinned. “We are, hey, what’s your name?”

  
Angie sat out and thrust her hand at him. “Angelique Enjolras, you can call me Angie.”

  
The boy sat up as well, taking her hand and shaking it. “Gavroche Thenardier.” he said with a grin.

  
“Nice to meet you, Gav.” Angie grinned.

  
“Nice to meet you too, Angie.” Gavroche smiled. They watched the stars together for awhile before Gavroche slowly yawned.

  
Angie looked at him. “Come on, it’s late.” she stood up and offered her hand. He took it and stood up. The two of them climbed back down the ladder and towards the bed. The lantern had burned out and it was slightly dark and cold, especially because they were both still in their wet clothes. Angie shivered and crawled into her homemade bed, pulling the blanket tight around herself. She looked up to see Gavroche staring at her. She sighed. “Come on, we’re going to sleep.” she said, beckoning him to come closer.

  
Gavroshe nodded and got under the blanket, cuddling close to Angelique. “Goodnight, Angie.” he whispered sleepily.

  
“Goodnight, Gav.” Angie sid softly. The two new friends fell asleep like that, curled around each other until morning.

  
Angelique woke up first, confused about why there was a strange, warm body in her bed. The previous night’s events returned to her and she smiled to herself. She stood up and stretched, her stomach growling. She laughed to herself and pulled on her cap, prepared to go visit her brother like she usually did in the morning, but she hesitated and decided to wait until Gavroche woke up. She sat down, leaning against the wall, she decided that she would be a good friend and wait patiently until the boy woke up. She did exactly as she told herself she would, for about five minutes. Then, she got bored and shook the younger boy awake. “Gav, wake up!”

  
Gavroche jolted awake, looking around. “What? What’s going on?” he murmured.

  
“We’re going to see my brother, come on!” Angie pulled the boy up. She slid down the rope of the Elephant before sprinting towards her old house. Gavroche struggled to keep up. She opened the large gate just as the sun began to rise, she took off through the garden before knocking on the large, white door.

  
Lucile immediately opened the door, smiling at Angelique. “Good morning, young mistress.” the woman curtsied, a move that Angie mimicked, giggling. “I suppose you’re here to see my young master?”

  
Angie nodded just as Gavroche ran up beside her. “Yep.” Angie said with a grin.

  
Lucile looked at Gavroche in surprise. “Who is this?” she asked.

  
“This is Gavroche, he’s my new best friend.” Angelique grinned. “Gav, this is Lucy, she’s my old best friend.”

  
Lucile smiled and left to get Enjolras. Enjolras appeared in the doorway, already expecting to see Angelique, but looked surprised to see Gavroche.”Uh, hello?” he said awkwardly. “Angie, who is this?”

  
“This is Gavroche! He’s my new best friend! He lives with me now!” Angie grinned. “This is my big brother! He’s the best big brother in the whole world!” she said proudly.

  
Enjolras waved slightly. “Angelique, what did we say about bringing people here?” he looked at Angie sternly.

  
Angie’s face fell. “I know, but he’s my friend!” she said.

  
“It’s dangerous, Angelique. We agreed that you wouldn’t bring anyone to the Elephant or here.”

  
Angie glared at him. “You just don’t want me to be happy!” she shouted. “He’s my best friend! He’s just like me!” she yelled.

  
Enjolras paled. “Angie, you need to be quiet.” he hissed.

  
“No!” Angie shouted. “I need to be happy!”

  
Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, but he was shoved out of the way by his father, who had come downstairs. “What is all this noise?” he looked around until his eyes settled on Angelique. “Girl, didn’t I tell you never to come back here again?!” he grabbed her arm.

  
Angie yelped as she was dragged inside. “No!” she struggled. "Let me go, Papa! I’ll leave, I promise! I won’t come back!” she started crying.

  
Monsieur Enjolras didn’t notice Gavroche follow them inside. “Shut up, girl!” the man shouted. “Julian, get the paddle.”

  
Enjolras stared at his father. “Dad...”

  
“Now!”

  
Enjolras looked at his sister sadly before bowing his head and leaving to get the paddle, handing it to his father. “I’m sorry.” he whispered to Angelique.

  
Monsieur Enjolras threw Angelique the the ground and immediately began attacking her with the paddle as he screamed. “Shut up! This is what you deserve!”

  
Gavroche stood frozen in horror as he watched his new friend get beaten. It took him several minutes before he remembered how to use his voice. “Stop!” he shouted, running in front of Monsieur Enjolras.

  
The Monsieur paused, looking at the boy, grabbing him by the hair,. “Who the hell are you, boy?” he snarled.

  
“I’m Angie’s best friend!” Gavroche said firmly.

  
Monsieur Enjolras threw Gavroche down. And began hitting him. “Stupid boy!” he shouted.

  
Enjolras watched this happen before he grabbed his father’s arm, holding him back. “Stop!” his father spun around and struck him in the face, causing the seventeen year old to stumble back. “Get out.” he hissed at the smaller children, looking at his eldest child.

  
Angie looked up. “Big brother..” she whispered.

  
Gavroche grabbed her arm. “Come on!” he pulled her out of the house, she looked back, her eyes filling with tears.

  
“We have to go back!” Angie pulled away from her friend. “My big brother is still there!”

  
“We can’t go back!” Gavroche yelled. “He’ll hurt us! He’ll beat us! I-I can’t!” the boy started crying.

  
Angelique looked at him sadly and hugged him. “I’m sorry.” she whispered. “We won’t go back.” she promised. “Not until tomorrow.” she murmured.

  
Gavroche nodded, returning the hug. “H-he reminded me of my father.” he whispered. “I-I thought he was.”

  
Angie nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.” she whispered.

  
“Can we go back home?” Gavroche asked.

  
Angie smiled and nodded taking his hand and walking towards the Elephant, their home, as they walked away from where she grew up


	3. The Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Les Amis is formed, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre meet some new people, and Angelique gets into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually one of my favorites so far. :) Be sure to tell me what you think!

Combeferre adjusted his glasses, sighing. He carried a stack of flyers with him as he walked into the Musain. He placed the flyers on a table, looking around at the small group they had collected, and smiling. They weren’t a very large group and they were mostly just teenagers, but it would be enough, hopefully the group would only grow. He smiled and watched as a nervous looking boy walked inside the cafe. Combeferre walked towards him. “Hello.” he greeted, outstretching his hand.

The boy jumped. “Oh, hi.” he looked around. “I would take your hand, but I don’t want to make you sick.”

Combeferre lowed his hand. “You’re sick?”

The boy nodded. “Scarlet fever, I’m afraid. I’m sure to die.”

A tall, already balding boy stepped into the cafe. “You don’t have scarlet fever, you’re being dramatic.” the balding boy laughed.

“Yes, I do!” the other boy said. He sighed and looked at Combeferre. “Pardon Lesgle. My name is Joly.” he introduced himself. “Lesgle thinks I’m somewhat of a hypochondriac.” he blushed. “I’m eighteen and I’m a medical student.”

Combeferre laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone is welcome here. My name is Combeferre, I’m nineteen, and I’m coincidentally also a medical student.”

Joly looked at him excitedly. “Really? Oh, that gives us a lot in common, then!” he said with a bright smile.

Combeferre smiled and nodded. “Yes, I suppose it does.” he said, though the real purpose of this meeting was to discuss politics, not personal interests.

Joly sat beside his friend from before, Lesgle, was the name, and Combeferre sat at the front table, hoping that he didn’t have to talk to many other people. He wasn’t charismatic like Enjolras or friendly like Courfeyrac, he much preferred staying close to his close friends or just not being around anyone at all. Growing up with a multitude of brothers had made him wary of being around large groups of people. He simply sat at the front and watched as a few people trickled through the door, he smiled when a familiar face entered.

Courfeyrac plopped into the seat next to him, running a hand through his own curls. “Hey.” he greeted with a grin. “How have things been going here?” he asked.

Combeferre shrugged. “Over there.” he pointed to where Joly and Lesgle were laughing. “Their names are Lesgle and Joly. Joly is a medical student like myself.”

Courfeyrac laughed. “You’re learning names, I’m proud of you.” he elbowed him. He laughed when Combeferre just blushed. “Come on, ‘Ferre, I’m just teasing.” he laughed. “Ohh.” he stopped when a woman entered the the cafe. “Sorry, gotta go.” he winked at his friend and got up, walking towards the woman and began talking to her. Combeferre sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying not to look too put off by his friend’s blatant disregard for him. He watched his curly haired friend flirt with the, frankly beautiful, woman before him. The woman giggled at something Courfeyrac said and Combeferre found himself crushing the flyer he was holding. Courfeyrac smiled as he resumed his seat next to his friend. “That’s Musichetta.” he said. “She's a little vixin, that’s what she is.” he smiled before looking at his friend. “”Ferre, are you okay?” he asked.

“What? Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” Combeferre asked.

“You’re holding that flyer as if it’s the king’s neck.” Courfeyrac pointed out.

Combeferre looked down and blushed, smoothing the flyer out and returning it to the stack. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.” he said.

Courfeyrac nodded. “Me too. Giving speeches has always been Jules’ strong suit, not mine.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he usually did when he was nervous. “Speaking of, where is Enjolras?” he looked around.

“In the back.” Combeferre gestured towards the back door. “He’s talking to the owner about us getting access to the cafe on a weekly basis.” he explained.

As if on cue, Enjolras returned to the room, looking around with an air of confidence that only he could pull off. He scanned the room before his eyes settled on his friends and he sat beside them. “We can hold our meetings here on Mondays.” he said, pushing his curls out of his eyes. “This is now the official meeting place of the Les Amis de L'ABC.” he smiled.

Combeferre smiled. “Good.” he said. “We need a meeting place and the Musain is perfect.” he smiled.

Courfeyrac nodded. “It’s in the city, but not in an area where there are many police, so hopefully we won't get caught and arrested for treason.” he said, looking around. “Plus, it has alcohol and women.” he winked at Combeferre, who just blushed and looked away.

Enjolras sighed. “We are not here for sex.” he growled. “We’re here for the freedom of the people!”

Courfeyrac laughed. “Sure, but we can have fun while we’re at it.” he winked at the blond.

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort, but he stopped when the door opened and two familiar figures stepped in. “Angelique, what are you doing here?!” Enjolras stood up and advanced on his younger sister. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous!”

“I want to help with the revolution!” the six year old chirped. “I have to help with the revolution if I’m going to be king.” she grinned.

“And I have to help!” Gavroche said with a matching grin.

Enjolras sighed. “You need to not be here, it’s not safe.” he muttered.

Angie frowned. “No, we’re staying. We’re part of this club too!”

Gavroche crossed his arms. “Yeah!”

Enjolras sighed. “This isn’t a club, it’s a serious organization. We could get killed for simply saying the things we do! We could be hung for treason!”

“Not when I’m king!” Angelique said firmly. "We have to stay! These are my people!”

Enjolras sighed. “No.”

“But we can help!” Gavroche protested.

“You’re children, no you can’t.” Enjolras said sternly.

“Yes, we can!” Angelique argued. “We can fight in the revolution!”

“No, you can’t.” Enjolras said. “Anything even resembling an actual revolution won’t happen for years! We need to gain a following, we need to be able to trust the people of Paris to aide us.” he explained.

“Then we won’t be too young when the revolution happens!” Angelique shouted. “And we can fight!”

Enjolras sighed. “Depending on how far away it is, Gavroche might be able to fight a long time from now. Not now.”

“Gavroche? What about me?” Angelique asked.

“You can’t fight.” Enjolras said.

“Why not?” Angelique asked angrily. “I’m older than him!”

“Because you’re a girl!” Enjolras snapped.

“So?” Angie held her ground.

“Girls can’t fight! They’re too weak! They aren't built for fighting!” Enjolras shouted.

Angelique recoiled like she had been hit. “You think I’m weak?” she asked in a small voice.

“Quite frankly, yes.” Enjolras sighed.

Angie’s eyes filled with tears and her hands balled into fists. “I’m not weak! I’ll show you!” she turned on her heel and stormed out of the cafe, Gavroche following her.

Enjolras sighed and collapsed in a chair. “Why can’t she see that I want what’s best for her?”

Combeferre sighed. “She’s a kid, you’re her big brother. She just wants to impress you.” he said.

“She needs to realize that she isn’t the same as other kids. She's weaker.” Enjolras muttered. “And she’s not a boy.”

“She doesn’t want to be a boy.” Combeferre sighed. “She just doesn’t think she should be treated differently for being a girl.”

“Girls are different.” Enjolras said. “She can’t be treated the same because she’s not the same."

Combeferre sighed, but didn’t argue. “Let’s just get on with the meeting.” he said.

Enjolras nodded and stood in front of the room, clearing his throat and getting everyone’s attention. “Hello!” he greeted, standing up to full height. “My name is Julian Enjolras and I’m the leader of this organization. Welcome to the Les Amis de L’ABC. Every person here must know that attending these meetings is extremely dangerous. We could be caught for treason. This isn’t a game or a joke or a club. What we do here is important.” he said. “You will need to be willing to give everything for our cause, everything up to your life. We are here to protect the will of the people. Our king is a tyrant, he needs to be stopped. We are the ones who need to stop him. It’s our responsibility as citizens of this country!” Enjolras began his rant, giving speech after speech. He only stopped talking when the door opened with a loud bang.

Claquesous marched into the cafe, causing a hush to fall over the group. Combeferre paled when he saw the two children struggling in his grip. “Angie.” he whispered, standing up.

Claquesous looked at everyone. “Who’s are these?” he held the children up. “Who thinks that these little street rats can steal from me?” he threw the children to the floor.

Angelique curled into a ball, her nose bleeding profusely. “Fuck you!” she spat at the man.

Claquesous kicked Angie hard in the side. “Shut up, rat!"

“Stay away from her!” Combeferre bolted towards the children before anyone else could. He cradled the redhead in his arms. “What did she do to you?” he looked up at the looming man.

“This street rat tried to steal from me!” Claquesous kicked Combeferre to the floor, his glasses falling off of his face.

“‘Ferre!” Courfeyrac stood up and moved to help his friend, but Enjolras grabbed the back of his shirt.

“Don’t.” The blond hissed in his friend’s ear.

“I take it that these brats are yours?” Claquesous asked Combeferre.

Combeferre glanced at Enjolras before nodding. “They’re my siblings.” he lied.

Claquesous kicked Combeferre hard in the face. “You should teach them better manners!”

Combeferre cried out in pain. “You’re the one beating little kids!” he spat.

Claquesous kicked Combeferre repeatedly. “I don’t take kindly to people trying to steal from me!” he stepped on Combeferre’s face, hearing a loud crack.

Combeferre yelled out in pain, his nose bleeding profusely. He closed his eyes and struggled to breathe as Claquesous stepped on his chest. Courfeyrac broke out of Enjolras’ grip and punched Claquesous hard in the face. “Get the hell away from him!” he shouted.

Claquesous swung at Courfeyrac, who dodged, his nimble teenage body able to maneuver much quicker than the large man’s. Courfeyrac swung and landed a punch on Claquesous’ jaw. Combeferre watched, unable to see much of the escalating fight without his glasses and with the blood running down his face. He searched for his glasses with his hands, eventually finding them and putting them on. He blinked and looked up at his friend, who was dodging every punch thrown at him. The eighteen year old was easily besting the gang leader in the fistfight. Combeferre sat up, his glasses slightly cracked. Courfeyrac saw him get up and looked at him, the moment’s hesitation was enough for Claquesous to gain the upper hand, he right hooked Courfeyrac, causing the boy to stumble back and fall to the floor.

“Courf!” Combeferre immediately stood up, ignoring the pain and the blood pouring from his nose. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and advanced on the man. “Stay away from him, you bastard!” before he could swing at Claquesous, he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

He spun around to see Enjolras looking at him, holding him back. “Stop. You’ll only get yourself hurt.” Enjolras warned.

The sound of Claquesous’ foot connecting with Courfeyrac’s face caused Combeferre to spin around. “Stop, Enjolras! Let me help him!"

“No.” Enjolras refused. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Isn’t that the point of this group?” Combeferre looked at him with pleading eyes. “Sacrificing yourself for the good of others?” tears pooled in his eyes. “Let me help him, please.” he begged. Enjolras looked at him and sighed, releasing him. Combeferre sighed in relief and sprinted towards Claquesous, shoving him off of his friend. Claquesous shoved him back, another fistfight breaking out. This one lasted considerably longer than the first, Courfeyrac joining again halfway through. Combeferre was pinned the wall and Courfeyrac had fallen to the floor when a large crash was heard and Claquesous fell to the ground. Everyone turned to see little Angelique holding the remains of a broken bottle, shards of glass sticking out of Claquesous’ back.

The redhead looked around, bruises covering her frail body and her nose still bleeding. “I-is he dead?” she whispered, looking at the man at her feet.

Enjolras ran towards his sister and held her tightly. “What were you thinking?” he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “You know he’s the leader of a gang, why would you purposefully piss him off?” he asked, shaking her continuously.

Angie began to cry. “You said that girls are weak, I wanted to prove you wrong.” she whispered. “I needed to prove that I wasn’t weak.”

Enjolras glared at her. “You just proved my point further!” he shouted. “You went and did something stupid! You got the crap beaten out of you and you got our friends hurt!" he shouted, gesturing towards Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “Plus, you ruined our first meeting! We probably won’t be allowed to hold meetings here anymore and you scared off everyone who would’ve wanted to come to any other meetings!” Enjolras was furious. “You’ve ruined everything!” he slapped her.

Angelique stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek. “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

“Not sorry enough!” Enjolras stood up and left the room, leaving his little sister crying on the floor.

Combeferre glared at his friend’s retreating back, adjusting his glasses. He walked towards Angelique, hugging her tightly. “Hey, shh. Don’t cry. He’s just being mean because he’s grumpy, you know how he gets.” he comforted, wiping away the child’s tears.

Angie sobbed. “I-I just wanted to impress him.” she whimpered.

“I know, I know.” Combeferre whispered, holding her tightly. “You did everything just right. You didn’t do a thing wrong.” he promised, figuring that it wasn’t the best time for telling her not to steal.

“I just wanna fight.” Angie sobbed, burying her face in Combeferre’s neck.

Combeferre nodded. “I know. It’s alright, your brother was just like you when he was younger.” he said softly. “He’s just upset. He’ll get over it.”

Courfeyrac knelt beside them. “You did good, Angie. You saved ‘Ferre’s ass.” he smiled. “I think he would be dead meat if not for you.” he tried to cheer her up.

People started exiting the Musain, happy to leave, but the medical student from earlier knelt beside all of them. “Hello, I’m a doctor.” he said. He took Angie from Ferre and examined her. “I think what you did was very brave.” he said softly, examining her nose.”And I would be happy to return to another meeting. This is exactly what we have to protect people from, thugs like him only exist because of our messed up political system.” he said. “I will happily join your cause, Lesgle would join me, I’m sure.” he looked at the bald man, who nodded. Joly smiled and handed the girl back to Combeferre. “She’s fine, she has some bruises, but nothing’s broken.” he said before examining Combeferre. “Your nose is broken, but it’ll heal.” he assured and examined Courfeyrac. “Minor bruising, you’ll be fine.” he assured before standing up. “I have to go, but I will be back next week.” he promised. “You can tell your leader that there are still those who would gladly support this organization.” he said before walking towards Lesgle and taking his hand. The woman from earlier, Musichetta, joined them and they walked happily out of the cafe.

“I think we just got three new members.” Courfeyrac grinned. “Wait till Enjolras finds out!”

Combeferre nodded, thinking about how the two men had been holding hands. “Yeah, they seem like great friends.” he murmured quietly to himself, glancing at Courfeyrac for a brief moment. “Come on, let’s tell Enjolras that not everything is ruined.”

Courfeyrac smiled and stood up, offering Combeferre his hand. “Let’s go!” he closed his eyes and grinned in a way that reminded Combeferre of when they were kids. He smiled and accepted his hand, pulling himself to his feet. “Thank you.” he smiled, taking Courfeyrac’s hand and walking towards the back, feeling pretty good despite everything that had happened. “I think we’re going to be okay.” he said softly.

“Me too.” Courfeyrac grinned and Combeferre could’ve sworn that his heart stopped.


	4. Chevalier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people familiar to Gavroche show up and the Les Amis get a new member.

Angelique skipped into the Musain with a wide grin on her face, holding more flyers for the meetings. Their small group had grown quite a bit over the past four years and it had become almost like a family. She and Gavroche had been permitted to attend meetings after Joly, Lesgle, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre had begged Enjolras. They had vastly outnumbered their leader, so he had no choice but to cave, he still didn’t count them or Musichetta as members, though. They were considered nothing more than assistants to the cause, but Angie didn’t care. She could help and that was what mattered. She placed the flyers onto a table and sat on top of it. “Hello, Provaire.” she smiled at the young boy sitting at the table.

Jean Provaire was the youngest official member of the group at nineteen years old, he had joined the group almost two and a half years ago when he had been just seventeen. “Hello, Angelique.” the poet greeted, looking up from what he was writing. “Are those the new flyers?” he asked.

Angelique nodded. “Yep! I made them myself!” she said proudly, showing him the crudely drawn pictures. “Gav and I worked on them all night!”

“They look very nice, I’m proud of you.” Provaire smiled, admiring them. “You should show these to Enjolras, I’m sure he will use them.”

Angie beamed. “Really?” “Really.” Provaire nodded. Angelique grinned and took off towards the back room. “Big brother!” she called, looking at where the three main leaders of the group stood.

Enjolras turned and looked at her. “Not now, Angelique, I’m busy.” he sighed and turned back to the sheet of paper the three of them had been looking at. “I think our best bet is to deliver a speech at Notre Dame, people will have to notice us.”

“It’s risky.” Combeferre shook his head. “The place will be crawling with police. We don’t want to offer our necks to the guillotine. I think we should rally the people at the poorer parts of town, the docks, namely.”

“You mean you want us to advertise ourselves to the whores and prostitutes.” Courfeyrac scoffed. “What good will they do us?”

“Those are the people who need our help the most!” Combeferre said. “If we deliver a speech there, we’re more likely to find someone who truly believes in the cause!”

“Big brother!” Angelique interrupted, skipping towards the three of them and placing the flyers on the table. “It’s important! We can put these flyers around Paris and people will know to come here!” she said excitedly. “We don’t have to do a speech at all!”

Enjolras picked up a flyer and examined it. “I don’t even know what this says.” he muttered. “It’s no good, throw them away.” he said throwing the flyer to the side and returning to his conversation.

Angie’s face fell and she gathered up all of the flyers. “Okay.” she murmured, leaving the room and trying not to cry. She started throwing them into the fireplace.

Provaire noticed this and stood up, taking the flyers out of her hands. “What are you doing?”

“Burning the flyers.” Angie sniffed. “He doesn't want them.”

Provaire sighed. “Come on, how about you come to my house and I’ll introduce you to someone.” he smiled and offered Angelique his hand. Angie nodded and took it. They walked out of the Musain and down several streets until they reached a quite large house on the outer edge of the city, Provaire opened the gate and led Angelique inside. “Iris?” he called out.

Angelique looked around and waited until a young girl came running down the hall. “Jehan!” she grinned and hugged him. “You’re home early!’

Provaire grinned and nodded, picking the child up. “Yes, I am. The meeting got very boring today, so I decided to introduce you to someone.” he put the girl down. “Iris, this is Angelique. Angie, this is my little sister, Iris.”

Iris looked down and covered her eyes with her hair. “Hi.” she said in a quiet voice.

Angelique smiled. “Hi.” she murmured. “How old are you?”

“Six.” Iris said softly.

“I’m nine, I’m a lot older than you!” Angelique grinned proudly. “My best friend is eight, that’s closer towards your age.”

Iris nodded. “Why are you wearing that?”

Angie looked down. “Wearing what?” she asked, confused.

“Boy clothes.” Iris crinkled her nose. “You shouldn’t be wearing that.”

Angelique sighed. “They're just clothes. Does it really matter who wears them?”

“Yes, there are boy clothes and girl clothes. Boy’s can’t wear girl clothes and girls can’t wear boy clothes.” Iris crossed her arms.

“That’s stupid.” Angie muttered, crossing her own arms.

“No, it’s not.” Iris said. “How will people know you’re a girl if you wear boy clothes?” she asked.

“Because I say I’m a girl.” Angie said. “It’s that simple. I say I am, so I am.”

“That’s not how it works!” Iris argued.

“Yes, it is!” Angie argued back. “I’m a girl because I say I’m a girl!”

Iris huffed and Prouvaire laughed. “That’s enough, girls. I brought you here so you can make friends.” he said. “Not so you can fight.” he smiled.

Iris sighed. “Fine, let’s go to my room and play dolls.”

Angelique frowned. “I don’t like dolls.”

Iris gaped at her. “How do you not like dolls?”

Angie shrugged. “I just don’t.”

Iris sighed. “Did you parents not give your dolls or something?”

Angie looked away at the mention of her parents. “No, they didn't, but I don’t think that’s why I don’t like them.” she said.

“Then why don’t you?” Iris asked.

“I just don’t.” Angie sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s just do something else.”

“I don’t have anything else to do.” Iris sighed. “I only have my dolls.”

“Then let’s go explore!” Angelique said excitedly. “We can go to the stream that’s near here! It’s really cool!”

Iris frowned. “It’s dirty.” she murmured.

Angie shrugged. “So?”

“I don’t want to.” Iris said.

And so most of an hour went by, the two girls bickering about what they should do until Angelique got fed up and she left. The sun was beginning to set, so she returned to the Elephant. Gavroche was waiting for her inside, curled into the fetal position. “Hey, Gav, what’s up?”

“My family is here.” Gavroche whispered.

“What?”

“My family is here, in Paris.” he whispered. “I saw my father earlier. He’s here.”

Angie looked at him. “Oh, Gavroche, I’m so sorry.” she hugged him.

Gavroche began to cry. “I thought I was free.” he sobbed. “I thought I had finally gotten away from them.” he hugged Angie back tightly. “Now they’re here. They found me.”

Angie shook her head. “We’ll keep you away from them, I promise.”

Gavroche sobbed. “What if they find me and hurt me?”

“They won’t.” Angie promised. “I’ll protect you. I’ll be your knight!” she told him.

Gavroche nodded and held onto the front of her shirt. “Thank you.” he whispered.

Angelique nodded. “Of course. Come on, you should sleep.” she said softly. “We’ll deal with your parents tomorrow.” she said firmly.

Gavroche slowly nodded and curled into a ball on the small bed, wrapping the thin blanket around himself. “Thank you, Angie.” he whispered, closing his eyes and quickly falling asleep.

Angie nodded and curled up next to her friend. “Goodnight, Gav.” she whispered before falling asleep. She was the first to wake up the next morning. She sat up and stretched, yawning. She looked at Gavroche, who was still asleep next to her. She smiled before shaking him awake. “Gav. Gav, wake up!” she shook him.

Gavroche jolted awake, blinking sleepily and looking around. “Huh?”

“Get up, it’s time to go!” Angelique said, standing up.

“Where are we going?” Gavroche asked, slowly forcing himself to his feet.

“To beat up your parents!” Angelique said like it was obvious.

Gavroche’s eyes widened. “We’re gonna beat them up?” he asked.

Angie nodded. “Of course.” she shrugged. “Let’s go!” she opened the trapdoor and climbed down the rope, Gavroche following her. “Where are they?” she asked.

“I saw them in market.” Gavroche said.

Angelique nodded. “Then let’s go!” she took off running towards the market.

“Angie, wait!” Gavroche struggled to catch up. “Wait for me!”

Angelique ignored him, sprinting until she arrived at the market and began looking around. “Who are they, Gav?” she asked once the boy had caught up with her. “What do they look like?”

“Papa’s tall and he has a bald spot.” Gavroche said “Mama’s short and fat.” he described. Angie nodded and explored the marketplace, searching for anyone who matched Gavroche’s description. She explored the marketplace, examining every person there. “Angie!” Gavroche called, causing the redhead to spin around and look where the younger boy was pointing. Across the street there was a young girl.

Angelique furrowed her eyebrows. “She doesn’t look old and fat.” she crossed her arms.

“No, it’s Eponine!” Gavroche shouted. “That’s my sister!” he said.

Angelique looked at him. “You have a sister?”

“I have two and a half!” Gavroche said.

“What?” Angelique looked confused.

Gavroche rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter!” he said. “Come on!” he started running towards the girl, Angelique on his heels. “‘Ponine!” he called.

The girl turned around, throwing her long, brown hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, can I help you?” she asked.

“Ponine, it’s me!” Gavroche said with a grin.

She stared at him. “Do I know you?” she asked.

“Its me, Gavroche!” the boy said. “Your brother!”

“I’m Angie!” Angelique said, feeling left out.

The girl blinked, staring at the children. “Gavroche?” she repeated, staring at him. “That’s impossible.” she said, shaking her head. “Gavroche is dead.”

“No, I’m not!” Gavroche crossed his arms. “I‘m right here! I just ran away!” he grinned. “I can prove it!” he pulled his ear down, revealing a birth mark right behind it. “See?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Gav?” she whispered. “Is it really you?”

Gavroche nodded and grinned. “Yep!”

The girl fell to her knees and hugged the boy tightly. “You’re alive!” she cried. She pulled away, holding Gavroche by the shoulders. “You can’t let Mama and Papa find you, they think you’re dead!” she said.

Gavroche frowned. “Why do they think I’m dead?”

“You just dissapeared, no one knew where you were. Everyone thought you were dead.”

“Well, I’m not.” Gavroche shrugged.

“I can see that.” the girl smiled. “But if Mama and Papa see you, they’ll make you work.” she said.

Angelique looked at them. “It’s okay.” she shrugged. “We’re going to beat them up anyway, so they won’t be able to hurt Gav anymore.”

The girl looked at her. “Gavroche, who is this?”

“I’m Angie, I already said that.” Angelique muttered. “I’m Gav’s best friend.”

The girl looked at her. “My name is Eponine, I’m Gavroche’s older sister.”

Angie shrugged. “Hi.” she said. “Why are you here?” she crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t you be in Montfermeil?”

Eponine sighed. “The police found us there, we had to move.” she explained.

“Why here?” Angie questioned.

“Because it’s big.” Eponine shrugged. “It will be harder for police to find us.”

Angelique frowned and Gavroche nodded. “Where’s Azelma?” he asked.

“She’s..um...I don’t know.” Eponine shrugged. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”

Angelique grabbed Gavroche’s arm. “Right, well, it was nice meeting you. Where’s your parents? We need to beat them up.”

Eponine stared at her. “You can’t do that!” she said.

“Watch me.” Angelique said stubbornly. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll find them myself.”

Eponine sighed and pointed at a nearby tent. “They’re in there.” she said.

Angelique nodded and dragged Gavroche into the tent, standing up taller. “Hey! Where’s the Thenardiers?” she shouted into the tent, crossing her arms.

A tall, balding man looked up. “Who’s asking?” he sneered.

Angelique stood up to full height, which wasn’t very high. “Angelique Enjolras!” she said. “Future king of France! Member of the Les Amis de L’ABC!” she shouted. “Best friend of Gavroche Thenardier!”

The balding man looked at the child for a moment before laughing. “Yeah, right.” he laughed sarcastically. “Future king, you? You’re a girl!”

Angelique’s nostrils flared. “I’m still going to be king!” she yelled. “Right now I’m here to defend the honor of Gavroche Thenardier!” she shouted.

“Gavroche? Who the hell is that?” the balding man asked with a snort.

“I’m your son!” Gavroche shouted. “I ran away years ago! Don’t you remember me?”

“I don’t have a son.” Monsieur Thenardier said, waving him off.

“You used to!” Gavroche shouted. “It was me!”

A short, fat woman looked up from where she was doting on a small girl. “We did have a son, dear.” she said. “He died.”

“I didn’t die!” Gavroche balled his hands into fists. “I’ve been here, in Paris! I live with Angie!”

Angelique nodded. “We live in the Elephant!”

Madame Thenardier looked at them. “You’re really that brat?” she asked.

Gavroche tensed. “I’m not a brat!”

Monsieur Thenardier stood up. “Well, what the hell are doing here? We don’t want you.”

Angelique walked towards him. “I’m going to defend him!” she yelled. “I’m going to beat you up!”

The monsieur laughed. “Look at this, you need your little girlfriend to protect you!” he laughed loudly.

Angie saw red. “I’m not little!” she punched him in the stomach.

Monsieur Thenardier was caught off guard and groaned in pain before coming to his senses and grabbing her by the hair. “You little shit!” he hissed kicking her in the stomach.

Angie groaned and struggled, kicking and clawing at the man. “Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go!”

Monsieur Thenardier threw Angelique to the ground and stepped on her chest. “What are you trying to prove?” he snarled. “Do you think you can pretend to be a boy? Is that what you want? Do you think that you can make yourself a boy by acting all tough?” he snarled.

“No!” Angelique shouted, struggling to get enough air into her lungs. “I-I want to help...I want to help!”

Monsieur Thenardier sneered. “You’re not helping anyone, girl! You’re embarrassing yourself!” he put more of his weight onto her chest, crushing her.

“Stop!” Gavroche ran towards them and started shoving his father. “Get off of her!”

Monsieur Thenardier grabbed Gavroche by his shirt collar and lifted him up. “You’re weak, boy! You need a girl to protect you! You disgust me!” he spat, throwing the boy to the ground.

Gavroche hit the floor and looked up at his father. “No! She’s my friend! You’re killing her!” he shouted, shoving the larger man. “Get off! Please!” he sobbed.

Angelique began to slowly lose consciousness, unable to breathe. “I-I…” she struggled weakly.

“Stop! You’re going to kill her!” Gavroche shouted, tears streaming down his face. “Stop!” “What’s going on here?” A ginger man stepped into the tent. “I heard yelling, is everything alright?” he looked around, his eyes widening and his mouth forming a small O.

“Get out!” Monsieur Thenardier growled at the man. “This does not concern you!”

The man looked around, fiddling with his coat. “I’m sorry, but you have made this my business.” he said. “I could hear the screaming from my stall and I believe that it is my responsibility to help anyone who is in need of it.” he said nervously. “These children seem to be in need of help.” he said.

“These children are in need of punishment!” Monsieur Thenardier snarled. “This does not concern you! Get out!”

The ginger sighed, looking at the child on the floor. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, Monsieur.” he said softly. “You are a money making man, yes? I’m afraid I don’t have much, but I can give you what I have.” he took out two francs. “Please, let me take these children off your hands. This is all the money I have received today.” he promised.

Monsieur Thenardier eyed the money, considering. He stepped off of Angelique and snatched the money from the man’s outstretched hand. “Get lost!” he barked at the children.

Angelique scrambled to her feet and headed towards the front of the tent before turning back and glaring at Monsieur Thenardier. “I’ll be back.” she promised before exiting the tent.

Gavroche and the ginger haired man followed her. “Thank you, Monsieur!” the young boy said. “You saved her.”

“I had it under control.” Angelique crossed her arms. “I would’ve beaten him.”

The ginger smiled. “I’m sure you would have, but it’s okay to ask for help from time to time.” he said. “Come on.” he walked towards his stall, which was full of nothing but fans.

“Why do you have so many fans?” Angie asked, looking at them.

“I’m a fan maker.” the man said. “I make and sell fans.” he said, handing one to her. “Here, you can have one.” he smiled.

Angelique took it. “Thank you.” she murmured.

“Angelique!” the girl turned around and saw Provaire heading towards them, his sister trailing behind him. “Where have you been?” he asked. “Your brother was worried about you.”

“I was beating up Gavroche’s parents.” Angelique said. “They came back, so I promised to protect him.” she said proudly.

Prouvaire sighed and looked at the fan maker. “I suppose you got them out of trouble?” he asked.

The man laughed and shrugged. “I did what I could. I’m Feuilly, by the way.” he stuck out his hand.

Prouvaire took it and shook it. “Jehan Prouvaire.” he introduced. “This is my sister, Iris.” he gestured towards the young girl.

Iris blushed and waved slightly. “Hi.” she said softly.

Feuilly smiled. “Hello.” he said. He looked back at Prouvaire. “What’s with the flyers?”

“I’m part of an organization.” Prouvaire said. “But it’s...not strictly legal.” he murmured.

Feuilly raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked. “It’s treason, technically.” Prouvaire said. “Come to the Musain next Monday and you’ll see.” he said.

Feuilly smiled. “I’ll be there.” he said. Prouvaire grinned. “Good. I’ll see you there.”

Feuilly nodded. “Of course.” he smiled.

Prouvaire smiled and took Angelique’s hand. “Let’s go. Your brother is waiting for us.” Angelique nodded and let Prouvaire lead her to the Musain, Gavroche following behind.


	5. The Friend

Bahorel walked down the street, adjusting his coat. He whistled a happy tune as he walked towards the market. He grinned at a young woman and handed her a flower. “How are you today, Mademoiselle, Meryl?” he asked with a smile.

The woman laughed softly. “I am well, thank you.” she twirled the flower he gave her, putting it into her long, red hair. “How are you?” she asked with a smile.

Bahorel smiled. “I’m good. I’m on my way to the Musain.” he said, grinning. “There’s a meeting.” he told her. “I’ll return after.”

She giggled and nodded. “Okay.” she smiled. Bahorel smiled and continued down the street, walking into the cafe and grinning at his friends.

“Hey.” he greeted with a grin.

Joly looked up and smiled. “Bahorel.” he smiled. “I was just showing Grantaire around.” he waved him over.

“Grantaire?” he asked, walking towards his friends. “Who might that be?” his question was answered a moment later when a tall man waved at him, holding a bottle of wine in his other hand, 

“Hey.” Grantaire greeted, taking a long swig from his bottle. Bahorel noticed that his face and knuckles were bruised, his nose appeared to have been broken and reset multiple times. His curly brown hair hid most of his emerald eyes. He leaned against the bar with a smirk, bringing the bottle to his lips again.

“Hello.” Bahorel grinned and waved. “I’m Bahorel.” he greeted.

“Grantaire, but you can call me R.” the man grinned. 

Bahorel laughed. “It’s a pun!” he grinned.

Grantaire looked at him in surprise. “Most people don’t get it.” he grinned. 

Bahorel looked at him and nodded. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.” he looked at Grantaire until his eyes widened. “Wait, R! You’re a boxer!” 

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, not legally, but yeah.” he said. “I get into a few fights.” he shrugged. 

Bahorel nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. You’re pretty popular in some circles.”

Joly looked at Grantaire in surprise. “You’re a boxer?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked.” he shrugged. “Now, when do I get to leave?” he asked.

Joly sighed. “He doesn’t really want to be here.” he explained to Bahorel. “I only managed to convince him to come because I told him there was alcohol.” he glared at the man.

Grantaire shrugged. “Wine is good. Why should I care for your rebel group? It doesn’t affect me.”

“It affects everyone!” Joly argued. “Grantaire, this is your life we’re talking about, the good of the people! What we do here is important, even if you seem to think that nothing is important.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Your movement is pointless. You won’t get anywhere, the king will crush this organization like an ant under a boot.” he took another long swig. 

Joly frowned. “Must you be such a cynic?” he asked.

Grantaire smirked. “It is my nature.”

“Stay awhile.” Bahorel encouraged. “Just for a small while. Stay for one meeting, it might surprise you.” he said with a soft smile.

Grantaire laughed. “I highly doubt it. I am not easily surprised.” he pushed his curls back, showing his eyes clearly for the first time that Bahorel had seen. His eyes were quite a striking green. 

Bahorel smiled. “I hope that we manage it, then.” he went to his usual table, where he sat with Prouvaire and Feuilly. 

“Who is that?” Prouvaire asked, looking up and brushing his long, red hair behind his ear.

Bahorel smiled and took his seat. “His name is Grantaire, he’s a boxer.” he said. “A cynic as well, I can only hope that we can change that.”

Prouvaire smiled and the room seemed to grow brighter. “I am sure that we can change his mind.” the poet took Bahorel’s hand. “We are good at that.” he smiled.

Feuilly came to the table and set down three drinks. “Changing people’s minds is what we do.” he smiled, sitting down and drinking from his glass.

Prouvaire nodded, taking a small sip from his own glass. “Exactly.”

Bahorel smiled and drank his own wine, looking up when the back door opened and Combeferre walked out. Bahorel watched as the boy walked towards another table and whispered something in Coufeyrac’s ear. Courfeyrac nodded and stood up, following Combeferre into the back room. The two of them returned moments later and Courfeyrac cleared his throat. “Hello? Hello, I would like everyone’s attention!” he spoke to the crowd. “Alright, listen up!” everyone fell silent. “Thank you.” he sat down, Combeferre sitting next to him. Bahorel watched Grantaire lean back in his chair, taking a swig of what appeared to be a new bottle of wine. 

Enjolras stepped out, standing straight and looking dignified, as usual. He cleared his throat. “I trust you all know why we’re here today.” he began. Bahorel noticed Grantaire’s jaw fall open and he sat up straight, staring at Enjolras in what appeared to be disbelief. “It is time we start planning for the future.” Enjolras continued. “We must start-”

He was cut off by a loud force. “I seem to have drank more wine than I thought.” Grantaire said. “I appear to be in the presence of a god.”

Enjolras glared at the man. “Who might you be?” he asked, anger brewing behind his eyes. 

“Me? I am nothing.” Grantaire said flippantly. “The question is, who are you? What realm do you come from, surely it is not a land of mortals. Why have you been sent to us, oh fair angel?” he stood up. It was only now that Bahorel noticed the glazed over look in his eyes, clearly drunk.

Enjolras looked furious. “I am no angel!” he snapped. “It is not your place to address me as such! I am a citizen first, a man second. Nothing more.”

Grantaire shook his head. “It is impossible for you to be mortal!’ he said. “You must be a god. Yes, mighty Apollo stands before me! Clear as day!”

Enjolras glared at him. “I am no god!” he spat. “You are a fool for comparing me to such.”

Grantaire smirked. “A fool? Perhaps.” he shrugged. “You shine too bright to be mortal, you speak as only a god could. You must be the mighty Apollo in disguise.” he said firmly.

Enjolras glared at the man. “I am no such thing!” he insisted. “If you insist on calling me such, you have no business being here. Every man is equal. That is the entire point of what we’re doing here!” if looks could kill, Grantaire would have burst into flames.

Grantaire didn’t seem put off. He stood up and looked at Enjolras with an unreadable expression on his face. “You cannot be mortal.” he said simply.

“I am not a god!” Enjolras said, brushing his golden hair back. 

Joly stood up and grabbed Grantaire’s arm. “Ignore him, Enjolras. He is not well.” he said. 

“I am perfectly well!” the drunk snatched his arm away from his friend. “I am in the presence of a god. I could not be better.” he stared at Enjolras in awe. 

“His mind has been muddled by alcohol, he has no control over his actions.” Joly told the leader. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying!” the doctor insisted.

Enjolras glared at them. “Then get him out!” he hissed. “He is not welcome here!”

Joly nodded and began to pull Grantaire out of the cafe, the drunk not taking his eyes off of the leader. “Sent away by a god.” he whispered, his emerald orbs fixed on Enjolras. “If the great Apollo decrees it, I must obey.” he went with Joly, Lesgle following close behind them. 

Bahorel watched them for a moment before standing up and walking out if the cafe. He walked down the street and turned a corner, coming face to face with Grantaire puking in the alley. “What were you thinking?!” Joly hissed, holding his hair back as he emptied his stomach. “I told you that you were drinking too much! I told you!” he hissed. 

Grantaire looked up, his lips stained. “Since when do I ever listen to everyone?” he scoffed before promptly hurling on Lesgle’s shoes. 

Lesgle sighed and rubbed his friend’s back. “Why do you do this to yourself?” he murmured. “All you’re doing is hurting yourself. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.” he sad sadly. “You’re going to kill yourself.”

Grantaire scoffed. “So?”

Lesgle looked at him sadly. “We don’t want you to die, R.”

“You’re the only ones.” Grantaire muttered, hurling onto the cobblestone.

“That’s not true.” Joly sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re our friend, we care about you. These reckless tendencies of yours are getting out of control.”

Grantaire spat on the ground and stood up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I don’t care.” he muttered. “It’s really none of your business what I do.”

“You yelled at our friend, R!” Joly said. “You upset him!”

“I upset a god.” Grantaire muttered. “It was worth it.” 

“Enjolras isn’t a god, Grantaire.” Lesgle sighed. “You’re just drunk.”

“He is beautiful.” Grantaire whispered, his eyes glazing over. “He must be a god. He is Apollo.” he breathed.

Bahorel laughed, causing the three to turn and look at him. “I’m sorry.” he laughed. “It’s just, Apollo doesn’t seem a good description for Enjolras.” he walked towards them. “Apollo is too much of a flirt.” he smiled.

Grantaire looked at him. “Bahorel, right?” Bahorel nodded. “ What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back inside with your glorious leader?”

Bahorel shrugged. “It seems much less exciting now that you’ve left.” he grinned.

Grantaire scoffed. “That’s what I’m here for, to make things more exciting.” he said with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll soon be gone, taking my excitement with me. You and your leader can go back to your dreadfully boring meetings.” he said with a shrug. “Though, how you can find such a thing boring when your leader is so clearly divine, I cannot know.” 

“Enjolras is far from divine.” Bahorel chuckled. “He is certain that every man is a king, not a god.” 

Grantaire scoffed. “A mortal man could not speak the way he does, a mortal man could not hold himself the way your leader holds himself, a mortal man could not look as if they were carved from marble.”

Bahorel smiled. “If Enjolras is a god, he must be the patron god of France itself. He would rule over no other. In fact, he would not have France be ruled. In his eyes, every man must be equal, there must be no kings. He is very pro-democracy.” he explained.

“A god who believes he is mortal.” Grantaire whispered. “There can be no greater god.”

Bahorel laughed. “I suggest you being sober at the next meeting.”

Grantaire scoffed and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I am never sober, my friend. I find waking life much too exhausting to get through it without a drink in hand.”

Bahorel looked at Grantaire sadly. “How old are you, friend? You seem much too young to drown yourself in alcohol.”

“That depends.” the boxer slurred. “What is the year?”

“1827.” Lesgle sighed. “Grantaire, you’re twenty-four. You know this.”

“Ahh. I was afraid that years might have passed as I stared upon your golden leader.” the cynic sighed.

“The wine has gone to your brain, friend.” Bahorel said with a sigh. “Come, sleep it off. Where do you live? I shall escort you.” he offered.

“I am a wanderer, I have no home. Hypnos graces me with his presence whenever he wishes to do so.” Grantaire said poetically. “He makes me drink from Lethe as I rest my head. I am sure he shall visit me tonight.”

Joly sighed. “He lives near here. Don’t trouble yourself. We’ll take care of him.”

Bahorel shook his head. “I cannot in good conscience leave him. I worry, you must understand.”

Grantaire scoffed. “Worry? For me? Don’t bother yourself.”

Bahorel looked at him. “It is no bother. I hope that perhaps I can convince you to return to our meetings when you are able to think without your thought drowning in alcohol. Our group is a family, a family that you could become a part of. ” he smiled.

Grantaire fixed him with a look that could only be described as confusion and disbelief. “I don’t know what you mean” 

“If you would chose to join us, we would welcome you into our family with open arms, all of us.”

Grantaire scoffed. “After that? I’d be lucky to be let back into the building.” he muttered. “Plus, I don’t think your leader likes me.”

“He doesn’t like that you’ve compared him to a god.” Bahorel corrected. “He doesn’t dislike you as a person.” 

Grantaire snorted. “He will.”

Bahorel sighed. “Just let me walk you home.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.” 

Bahorel nodded. “Thank you.” he looked at Joly and Lesgle. “Lead the way.” the four of them walked a ways through the dark streets of Paris, Joly and Lesgle supporting the majority of Grantaire’s weight. The streets were blissfully empty as they walked through the city, scarcely anyone out besides a few women of the night and their customers. Eventually they made their way to a fairly poor part of town. Grantaire led them upstairs, to an apartment that seemed to barely be an apartment at all. There was a flight of stairs that creaked and shuddered so much that Bahorel was worried that they wouldn’t support their weight. The stairs led to a door that was crooked, barely on its hinges. The drunk unlocked the door, his hands trembling in his drunken state. He eventually unlocked the door and pushed it open with a grunt after the door got stuck. 

“Here we are, home sweet home.” Grantaire slurred. The apartment was small, but it was full. Artwork covered every wall, paintings, drawings, and sketches coated the floor. Stacks of books lay in various corners of the room and on the bed, paintbrushes and pencils lay across paper and jars of paint in one corner. 

Bahorel looked around. “You’re an artist? Impressive.” 

Grantaire shrugged. “It’s just crappy art. It’s not even worth enough to feed myself.”

“It’s amazing.” Bahorel looked at a painting of what appeared to be a man eating grapes. “You made this?”

Grantaire shrugged and nodded. “Yeah. Dionysus is my muse.” he smirked. When Bahorel looked at him, the man was holding a bottle of wine, bringing it to his lips. “He is the god of everything I embody.” he raised the glass in a toast before he began chugging the bottle.

Joly sighed and glanced at him. “Grantaire!” he glared at his friend. 

When Grantaire didn’t react, Lesgle grabbed the bottle from him, throwing his head back and swallowing the contents himself. “You need to stop.” he said when Grantaire looked at him in astonishment. “You won’t stop if there’s alcohol to be had.”

Grantaire frowned. “You could’ve saved it. You didn’t have to drink it.” he grumbled.

“Yes, I did.” Lesgle sighed. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“How kind of you to take care of me.” Grantaire said sarcastically. “Like a doting mother.”  

Lesgle rolled his eyes. “Yes, come on.” he half carried, half dragged Grantaire towards the bedroom, dumping him onto the bed.

“Ahh, yes. Thank you, my dear Bossuet. I believe you have made me better again.” Grantaire said in a falsely cheery tone. “You can leave me here and be on your way, I shall stay and sleep, never to touch a drop of wine again.”

Lesgle snorted. “Yes, because that couldn’t go wrong.” he said sarcastically. 

“Bossuet?” Bahorel asked with a raised brow. “I thought your name was Lesgle?”

“It is. Lesgle, Lesgles, L’aigle. It started with L’aigle, you know, the eagle?” Lesgle said. “Bossuet is my nickname.” he said simply. “It’s sort of an inside joke involving a bishop. R started it.” 

Bahorel nodded and grabbed Grantaire’s arm. “We need to get you to bed.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away. “I am fine. I do not wish to sleep.” he murmured. 

“You seem to need it, my friend.” Bahorel told him.

Lesgle sighed. “We have it from here, Bahorel. Don’t worry yourself.”

“It is no worry.” Bahorel said. “Grantaire is my friend, now. He is all of our friend.” he looked at the drunk and smiled. “He is one of us.” 

Grantaire stared at him in disbelief, before pulling himself away from Lesgle. “It’s fine.” he muttered. “I’ll go to sleep on my own, don’t worry about it.”

“We’ll stay.” Joly said immediately. He looked at Bahorel. “Bossuet and I will stay. Don’t worry, he will be safe.” he promised. 

Bahorel nodded and gave one last glance towards Grantaire before leaving, looking around at the artwork on the walls as he stepped outside. He breathed deeply, his breath appearing in the cold, January air. He put his hands in his pockets and returned to the Musain. When he arrived, the meeting was already over and almost everyone had already returned home. A single person sat at a table, humming softly and writing something in a journal. Bahorel smiled and sat beside him.

“How did it go?” Jehan looked up, green eyes catching the light of a nearby lantern. “Is Grantaire alright?”

Bahorel smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know.” he admitted. “When I left, Lesgle and Joly had him.” he told him. 

Jehan nodded, taking a sip of the tea in front of him. “I was working on a poem, would you like to hear?”

Bahorel nodded. “Of course.”

Jehan smiled softly and began. 

_ Et du jour en feu. _

_ Des humains suffrages, _

_ Des communs élans _

_ Là tu te dégages _

_ Et voles selon. _

_ Puisque de vous seules, _

_ Braises de satin, _

_ Le Devoir s’exhale _

_ Sans qu’on dise: enfin. _

_ Là pas d’espérance, _

_ Nul orietur. _

Jehan finished and looked at Bahorel expectantly. “I’m not finished. I still have to work on it and change some things.” he blushed and looked away. “It isn’t quite well done. I am still working on it.”

Bahorel shook his head. “It’s beautiful.” he said softly. “Really.”

Jehan blushed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my friend.” Bahorel smiled and took Jehan’s hand, relaxing, and thinking that everything would be okay.


	6. Le Problème

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's trouble.

Angelique sprinted down the street, clutching a small pair of earrings close to her chest. She was panting as she ran, long hair kept in a cap. She glanced behind her, seeing Gavroche on her heels. She ran down the street and ducked into the Musain. She ran towards the back room, where a Les Amis meeting was being held. She immediately crawled under the nearest table, curling up at Grantaire and Prouvaire’s feet, holding her breath. Gavroche sprinted in moments later, hiding under a different table, hiding next to Joly and Bossuet. Grantaire lifted the tablecloth. “What are you-”

Angelique cut him off with a quick shush. “Shh!” Grantaire opened his mouth to ask again, but he didn’t have the chance before the door swung open and a tall police officer strutted inside.

“Where are they?” the man barked. “Where are the street rats?” he looked around. “I know they came here, a civilian saw them.” 

Angelique held her breath and gripped Grantaire’s leg tightly, terrified. Grantaire glanced at Enjolras, who was standing at the front of the room. The leader’s expression quickly changed from a look of confusion to one of barely concealed fury. “I don’t know what you mean, monsieur.” Enjolras said through gritted teeth. He cast a glance at Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who had various flyers on their table, flyers that could get them killed if the police officer spotted them. Courfeyrac stood up, walking towards the officer and blocking the man’s view of Combeferre.

“Come, monsieur, surely there’s been some mistake?” Courfeyrac smiled brightly and put an arm around the man’s shoulders. “Come, have a drink. We are but a small group of friends here. I think you’ll find that most of us are considerably wealthy.” he pointed out. “Excuse me, allow me to introduce myself.” he bowed. “I am Courfeyrac. Son of the Monsieur de Courfeyrac.” he looked up, his curls hanging in his eyes. “Surely you’ve heard of him? He is quite a powerful man.” he shot the officer a wicked smile.

Courfeyrac’s distraction was allowing Combeferre to shove the flyers under the table. He quickly hid all of them as Courfeyrac entertained their guest. Once he had thrown the flyers on the floor, he stood up and began gathering the other flyers, speeches, and promotional art scattered about the room. He quickly disposed of these, hiding them behind the bar before leaning against said bar, doing his best to appear casual, though he was sweating and fiddling with his glasses. Enjolras was clutching one of the flyers tightly in one hand. Combeferre glanced at it before walking to his friend’s side. “Enjolras, the flyer.” he whispered.

Enjolras didn’t seem to process what he said for quite some time. When he did, he glanced down at his hand, seeing the flyer and quickly shoving the paper into his pocket. The officer was still talking with Courfeyrac. “I don’t care who your father is, boy.” he glared. “Two street rats came into this building after robbing a jewelry shop. They got away with a pair of earrings and a necklace.” he said. Angelique held the pair of earrings closer, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around Grantaire’s leg.

Grantaire slipped a hand under the table and gently rested it on top of Angie’s head, trying to comfort her. “There are no street rats here, monsieur.” he announced. “Just a small group of close friends.” he smirked. “ Unless you count myself, that is.” he laughed. “I’m afraid that I might indeed be a street rat, depending on how you look at it.” he took a long swig of wine. “I have stolen nothing.”

The officer glared at him. “These street rats were children. Two boys, young.” he informed. “Two good men claim to have seen the boys enter this building.”

“What do you define by good?” Courfeyrac asked, “Our definitions of good might be very different.”

“This is no time for games, boy!” the officer barked. “There are thieves on the loose.”

“Yes, but not here, monsieur.” Combeferre said. “We have no thieves here. Whoever you spoke with must be mistaken. We don’t allow children here.” he explained. 

The man looked at every individual person before sighing and seeming to give up. “Fine, but if I find out that you’re lying, you’ll have to answer to Javert.” he warned. He turned to leave before stopping and looking at something on the floor. Combeferre paled as he turned and saw a flyer laying on the ground. “What is that?” Javert asked.

Courfeyrac picked it up and put it in his pocket. “What? Oh, it’s nothing.” he waved him off. “It’s just an invitation to an upcoming event at my manor.” he lied quickly, hoping that it sounded convincing enough. 

Javert glanced at him. “Give it here.” he ordered, outstretching his hand.

Courfeyrac shook his head. “That shouldn’t be necessary, monsieur.” he said. “It is as I said, an invitation. An invitation to an event that you are not invited to.” he said with a dramatic flair, waving his hand through the air. 

“Hand it over.” Javert ordered, glaring at the boy. “Now. That is an order.”

Courfeyrac glanced at Combeferre in fear. “Right. Of course, if you insist, monsieur.” he took the wad of paper from his pocket, beginning to hand it towards the policeman. He passed it directly over an open candle, causing the paper to catch on fire. The material burst into flames, making the police officer drop it in surprise. Joly quickly picked up his goblet of water, pouring it onto the flames and dousing the fire. Courfeyrac stared at the ash in apparent shock. “I-I am terribly sorry, monsieur!” he said quickly, cleaning up the charred remains of the flyer. “I didn’t notice the open flame! I am so sorry!” he looked at the officer. “I am sorry.”

Javert glared at the boy. “You did that on purpose.” he grabbed Courfeyrac by the collar, causing Combeferre to quickly step forward, only being held back because Bahorel grabbed his elbow. Javert held onto Courfeyrac. “What was that, really?” he sneered. 

“An invitation, honest.” Courfeyrac put his hands up in surrender. “I did nothing wrong, monsieur.” he said quickly. “I simply didn’t notice the open flame. I swear on my mother’s grave.” he looked Javert in the eye.

Javert studied him before dropping him. “If I find out that you lied to me…”

“Yeah, we’ll answer to Javert, I get it.” Courfeyrac smoothed out his clothes. “Thank you.” he muttered sarcastically. 

Javert glared at him and left the cafe. Everyone was silent as they watched him go, waiting until he was out of sight before they dared to even breathe. Everyone was still for several minutes, no one even dared to speak. Until Enjolras balled his hands into fists. “Angelique!” he shouted, marching towards the table she was hiding under and dragging her out. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he pulled her from under the table and to her feet. “You brought the police here!” his blue eyes saw red, if looks could kill, Angelique would be dead where she stood. “You idiot!” Enjolras raised his hand and backhanded his sister across the face. “Do have any idea what you’ve done?!” he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “You led them here! You might have just killed us all!” he slapped her hard. “They'll watch this place!” he raised his hand again.

“Enjolras, that’s enough!” Grantaire rose to his feet, glaring at Enjolras with what appeared to be disgust, a look that Grantaire had never directed at the leader. “She is a child! She didn’t know what she was doing! She was afraid!”  
Enjolras snarled at Grantaire. “What do you know?!” he hissed. “She has  ruined everything!” he shook the child, who had silent tears streaming down her face. “She brought the police here! They almost uncovered what we’re doing here! She could’ve gotten us killed!”  
“She didn’t know any better!” Grantaire shouted, sounding truly furious, his eyes blazing. “She had nowhere else to go! This is the first place she thought of! This is her _home_!” he yelled. “Do you not realize that?!” he shouted at Enjolras, advancing on the blond. “She couldn’t exactly go back to her _house_ , because she doesn’t have one! This is the closest thing to home she’s got!” he pointed out.

“She just compromised it!” Enjolras yelled, still holding onto Angelique. “I should’ve known better than to let children here.” he glared at his sister. “Or a woman.” he hissed. Musichetta cast him a glare from the other side of the room. “You have no place here!” he threw Angie to the ground. “Leave.” he ordered, pointing to the door. 

Angelique stared up at her brother with tears in her eyes. “But-”

“Leave!” Enjolras shouted, picking Angelique up and threw her towards the door. Gavroche crawled out from under the table he was under, looking at his crying best friend. “You’re not welcome here!” Enjolras shouted. “Neither of you are!”

Grantaire glared at the leader and grabbed his jacket. “Than I’m not welcome here either.” he muttered. He pulled on his jacket and took Angelique’s hand, leading her outside. Gavroche followed after them.

“Where are we going?” Gavroche asked, shivering slightly. His clothing was thin and it was February, the boy was freezing. 

Grantaire looked at him and picked Angelique up, the girl’s teeth chattering. He took off his jacket and handed it to Gavroche, his body heat keeping Angelique warm. “We’re going to my place.” he told him. “You can stay there for awhile.” he said. He walked through the streets, turning a corner and walking towards his apartment. He walked upstairs and unlocked his door. He pt Angelique down and went inside. “Just don’t break anything.” he warned. 

Gavroche stepped inside, looking around. “Wow.” he walked through the hallway. “You have a lot of paintings of Enjolras.” he said, looking at a picture of Enjolras that sat on an easel. “I don’t think his hair flows like that.” 

Grantaire sighed. “That’s the problem.” he muttered, examining the painting. “I can’t get him right.” he murmured. “I can’t get the right shade of red for his lips or the right blue for his eyes. I can never get a perfect gold.” he swiped his thumb through the yellow paint of Enjolras’ hair. “A god cannot be painted.” he sighed. “It is so much easier to paint mortals.” he stood up and smiled.

“Can you paint me?” Gavroche asked excitedly, looking at all of the paintings.

Grantaire laughed, a loud, booming sound that echoed throughout the apartment. It was a nice sound, a happy one that seemed to light up the small space. “Sure, if you can sit still long enough to pose.” he told him. “Not right now, though. I have some orders I need to fill.”

“What does that mean?” Gavroche asked in confusion.

“It means that people ask me to paint something, I paint it, and they pay me.” Grantaire explained. “Right now, I have to paint a picture of a different client. He’ll be here tomorrow to pose.” he informed. 

“Who?” Gavroche asked curiously.

“Just..a client.” Grantaire rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Does he pay you a lot of money?” Gavroche asked. “He should. Your paintings are really good.”

Grantaire blushed slightly. “He doesn’t...pay me in money.” he admitted.

Gavroche looked confused. “What does he pay you in?”

Grantaire sighed. “Morphine.” he admitted.

Gavroche still looked confused. “What’s morphine?” he asked curiously. 

Grantaire sighed. “It’s...powder. It’s white powder that you….that I snort.” he explained. “It makes me feel good.” he sat on his bed. “Well, it used to. The high has kinda worn off at this point.” he chuckled sadly.

Gavroche sat beside him, confused. “You don’t like it?” he asked. Grantaire shook his head. “Then why don’t you get payed with money?” the boy was extremely confused. “If you don’t like it, you should get payed with money.” Gavroche said simply, laying on the bed.

Grantaire sighed. “It’s not that simple.” He explained. “At this point...I need it.” he said. “I need it to live. If I don’t have it, I feel like I’m going to die.” he tried explaining. He sighed and ran a hand through his curls. “I don't know how to explain it. It’s like..trying to live without air.” he explained. “It’s impossible.”

Gavroche still didn’t understand. “Oh, okay.” he didn’t want Grantaire to think he was stupid, so he pretended to know what he was talking about. “That makes sense.” he lied.

Grantaire could see that the child didn’t truly understand, but that was okay. He smiled softly and hugged the boy. “It’s okay.” he said softly. “I don’t want you to understand, not really.” he sighed. “Understanding means that you have know about it, have to have experienced it. I don’t want that for you.” 

Gavroche nodded, confused. “Oh, okay.” he said with a shrug. “Who’s your client?” he asked.

“A slimy little git.” Grantaire muttered. “His name is Montparnasse. He’s one of the leaders of the Patron Minette.” he said. “He’s barely even a man, but he’s clever. Too clever.” he sighed.

“Wait, Montparnasse?” Angelique spoke for the first time since they arrived in Grantaire’s apartment. “We know Montparnasse!” she climbed onto the bed. “He’s the one who told us to steal these!” she held out a pair of gold earrings.

Gavroche nodded. “Yeah, and this.” he pulled a star necklace out of his pocket. “He said that it was for Eponine.” he explained.

Grantaire bolted up. “What?” he looked at the children. “You stole stuff for Montparnasse?”

Angelique nodded. “Yeah. He told us to get something nice that he could give to Gavroche’s sister.” she explained. “He likes her.” she grinned. 

Grantaire stared at them. “You need to never go near him again!” he grabbed Angelique’s hand with both of his own. “He’s dangerous! He doesn’t care about anyone other than himself! He’ll destroy you if you get in his way. I don’t trust him. Never trust him.” he warned. “You get rid of these.” he took the earrings. “He doesn’t deserve any of this.” he told her. “You can’t get wrapped up in his shit.” he said.

Angelique looked up at Grantaire and frowned. “Why?” she asked. “He seems nice. His friends call me pretty!” she grinned. 

Grantaire paled and held Angelique by her shoulders. “You need to stay away from them.” he warned. “They will hurt you. They will hurt you and say that they’re helping you. You can’t trust them. Listen to me, really listen to me.” he looked into her eyes. “Never go near them again.” he begged. “They’ll destroy you.”

Angelique stared at Grantaire with eyes wide with fear. “O-okay.” she said. 

“Promise me.” Grantaire stared at her with pleading eyes. “Please, promise me.”

“I-I promise.” Angelique stuttered. “I promise.” she repeated in a whisper.

Grantaire hugged her tightly. “Thank you.” he breathed, closing his eyes. “Thank you.” 

Angelique nodded, still confused. “You’re welcome.” she murmured, hugging him tightly.

Gavroche watched them, twirling the stolen necklace between his fingers. He glanced between the necklace and Angelique, an idea forming in his mind. “Hey, Angie?” he looked at her.

“Yeah?” Angelique pulled away from Grantaire and looked at Gavroche. “What is it?” she asked, crawling across the bed towards her friend. 

Gavroche held out the golden star necklace. “Well, we can’t give this to Montparnasse, so you should keep it.” he blushed and ducked his head, hiding his pink cheeks. “I think that it would look good on you.” he said, holding the necklace out for her.

Angelique blushed deeply and took the necklace from his outstretched hand. “Thank you,” she said softly, unclasping it and putting it around her neck. “Can you help?” she looked at Gavroche.

Gavroche nodded. “Of course.” he smiled, clasping the necklace around Angie’s neck. “There you go.” he grinned and looked at her.

Angelique looked down and fiddled with the star charm on the necklace. “How do I look?” she asked, looking up.

“You look amazing!” Gavroche told her, blushing deeply. “I mean...you look...nice.” his ears turned a bright red. 

Grantaire looked at Gavroche and smirked, laughing loudly. “You look great, Ang.” he grinned.

Angelique blushed, but grinned widely. “Thank you!”  she giggled, leaning against Grantaire. 

Gavroche grinned, blushing deeply and just looking at Angelique and ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. Grantaire looked at the young boy, noticing the red on the boy’s cheeks and ears. Feelings like those that the boy was feeling were dangerous, Grantaire knew that. He sighed, it was just a schoolboy crush, surely nothing bad could come of that.


	7. The Eagle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bossuet's chapter, yay! : ) This is one of my favorite chapters! Please read and comment and kudos! Let me know if you see any errors.

Lesgles, Lesgle, L’Aigle de Meaux, Bossuet. No matter what he was called, he would smile and wave good naturedly. He would start a conversation with almost anyone who spoke to him, he never let anything wipe the grin off of his face, no matter his bad luck. The fact was, Bossuet was an unlucky fellow, when he attempted to split a log, he split his finger instead. The world seemed to be against him, wherever he went, bad luck followed, but Bossuet was lucky on two accounts. Bossuet’s luck existed in the form of two people; Joly and Musichetta. Musichetta, with her pale skin, curly hair, and eyes like a fortune teller. Her bright eyes could seemingly see through everything Bossuet ever felt or thought. Her laugh brought Bossuet happiness like nothing else, her strong words, the way she never feared speaking her mind. When she had something to say, she said it without hesitation. She never cared what anyone thought about her, she was strong, passionate, and beautiful. She was everything to Bossuet. Everyday Bossuet would wake up, see her in his bed, and thank his few lucky stars that she was with him. 

His second lucky star resided within Joly, the young doctor. Bossuet’s relationship with Joly changed drastically over the years that they knew each other. At first, they simply shared a mistress, the two of them both shared the beautiful livewire that was Musichetta. Soon, the two men became close friends, something that seemed inevitable when they shared a woman, it seemed that two men must become either the greatest of friends or worst enemies. Joly and Bossuet chose the former option until a third presented itself. The men grew closer for years, until eventually the relationship between them grew indistinguishable from each of their relationships with Musichetta. It was her who proposed the third option. Upon seeing how close both of her lovers were, she proposed the solution of the two men sharing their relationship with one another. Thus, Musichetta and Bossuet or Musichetta and Joly, became Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet. Not that anyone could know what went on behind closed doors, if anyone found out about Joly and Bossuet’s relationship, the two of them would be executed. That didn’t stop the three of them from continuing their secret relationship with stolen kisses in hidden hallways, dark allies, and locked rooms. 

There were a few things they could get away with in public, holding hands, both men could be seen with Musichetta and because the men were such good ‘friends’, not many questioned their intimacy. They could hold hands, lean on each other in public, remain close to one another. They just had to be careful about their soft kisses, wandering eyes, and whispered declarations of love. Within the walls of the cafe Musain, they could afford to be a little more careless with their affections. They were among friends, people who mostly shared their views of romance and sexuality. Grantaire had once walked in when Joly and Bossuet had been careless and allowed themselves to indulge in a kiss without locking the door. Bossuet had been so afraid that their friend would look upon them in disgust or scorn, but he had said nothing. The cynic had just smirked, leaned against the doorframe, raised his wine bottle towards them, and told them that they shouldn’t stop on his account. Their friend didn’t seem phased in the least by their implications of sodemy. When Bossuet had questioned him later, the man had simply laughed and explained that attraction towards men and women wasn’t limited to just the two of them. 

In any case, their friend kept their secret and didn’t comment on their relationship or judge. While Joly had been in a panic when Grantaire had found out, Bossuet trusted his friend with his life and Musichetta seemed comfortable with trusting the cynic with the knowledge of their relationship. The three of them were a family, they lived together, shared everything with one another, and loved each other. Nothing else mattered to the three of them. As long as they had each other, they would be fine. 

Bossuet woke up, his lovers beside him in their shared bed, Joly lying in between himself and Musichetta. Bossuet smiled as he looked at the medical student, the younger man’s breathing slow and steady in his sleep, his mind free from anxiety. Musichetta lay on Joly’s other side, wild curls surrounding her head, her eyes shut and an arm wrapped around Joly’s chest. Bossuet smiled softly at the two of them, brushing a strand of Musichetta’s hair out of her face, causing the woman’s eyes to flutter open. “Morning.” she murmured, sleep in her eyes.

Bossuet’s smile grew. “Good morning, beautiful.” he whispered, kissing her forehead. 

Musichetta closed her eyes and made a small sound of approval. “You’re up early.” she noted, eyes still shut as she curled closer to Joly’s sleeping form.

“I have class this morning.” the law student sighed. “I have to be up early.”

Musichetta groaned and reached across Joly to wrap an arm around Bossuet. “Don’t leave us.” she murmured, not opening her eyes. “You’re warm.”

Bossuet chuckled. “Is that why you have me around, to keep you warm?” he teased. 

“It’s certainly a bonus.” Musichetta smirked. “If you leave, our dear Joly might grow cold and get sick.” she murmured. “Would you really do that to our precious doctor?”

Bossuet looked over the sleeping form of Joly. “I must leave, my dear. They might remove me from the class if I don’t go.” he sighed. When the professor calls roll and a student is not present to announce that they were there, the student’s name would be struck off of the list and would be removed from the class. “I promise, I would much rather spend the day in bed with you.” he smiled before slowly pulling the blankets off of himself and stepping away from the warmth of the shared bed. Joly stirred in his sleep and Bossuet glanced back at him. Musichetta was right, the sleeping doctor seemed much colder without Bossuet beside him. The law student pressed a soft kiss to the sleeping man’s head before getting himself dressed. “I’ll be back after my class.” he promised, walking to the other side of the bed and kissing Musichetta softly.

“Leaving us already, L’Aigle?” Joly seemed to have awoken and was now watching Bossuet and Musichetta with a small smile on his lips. “I hardly think that’s fair.” 

Bossuet chuckled slightly. “I’m afraid I must go, I have class and I must be off.” he placed a small kiss on the doctor’s lips. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” he grinned. “And I’m sure that our lovely Musichetta here will be more than happy to keep you warm while I’m gone.” Musichetta hummed her agreement and pulled Joly closer, kissing his cheek.

Joly smiled and rested his head against Musichetta’s shoulder. “Well, if it must happen, so be it.” he sighed. 

Bossuet smiled and nodded, kissing both of his lovers once more. “I love you both.” he called as he walked out of the door. He walked through the streets until he arrived at his university, where he slipped into his class. He took his usual seat, waiting as roll was called. He sighed and looked out of the window, smiling to himself as each student answered to their name in turn. 

“Pontmercy?” the professor called and for the first time, the room was silent. “Pontmercy?” the professor called again, with no reply. Bossuet looked up, realizing that the student was absent. “Marius Pontmercy?” the professor called again, preparing to strike the student’s name from his list.

Bossuet took a deep breath and raised his hand. “Pontmercy!’ he called. “Marius Pontmercy! That’s me.” he said. So much money was put into law school, it would be a shame for whoever Marius Pontmercy was to be struck off of the list and waste his money. The professor looked directly at Bossuet and nodded. Bossuet quickly began to move to another seat in hopes that when his name was called, he would be able to answer.

“Lesgle?” The professor called. At that moment, Bossuet’s bad luck decided to show itself as his chair toppled over and he fell to the floor in front of the class.

Bossuet blushed deeply. “Lesgle, that would be me.” he said.

The professor glared ath him. “You have already answered for Pontmercy.” he said. “You cannot be both.”

“Lesgle is who I am.” Bossuet insisted. “I am Lesgle and Lesgle is me.”

“You cannot be Lesgle if you are Pontmercy.” The professor shook his head. “If you are Pontmercy, there is no Lesgle here.” he said and struck the name off of his list. “If you are Lesgle, you may go. Only Pontmercy can stay.”

Bossuet sighed and nodded, exiting the classroom and walking back home in shame. How was he supposed to explain this to Joly and Musichetta? How was he supposed to look his lovers in the eyes and explain that he had been cast from his class because he was defending a student whom he didn’t even know? He bowed his head as he walked up the stairs towards the shared apartment. He walked inside to find Musichetta tending to a hole in Joly’s trousers. She looked up from where she sat on a stool, frowning when she saw Bossuet there, “Lesgle?” she stood up. “Your class wasn’t to end for quite some time.” she murmured. “What’s happened?”

Bossuet let her lead him to the sofa, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. “I’m afraid that my bad luck has struck us again, my dear.” he sighed. “I was trying to make sure that a student by the name of Pontmercy wouldn’t be removed from the class, in doing so, I got myself removed in his stead.” he explained. “I am sorry.”

Musichetta sighed and held Bossuet close. “No, there’s no need to apologize.” she assured gently. “You did nothing wrong. It’s not your fault that you’ve got rotten luck.” she kissed the top of his bald head. “You did a good thing, Lesgles.” she kissed his temple. “Besides, this Pontmercy fellow just saved you from becoming a lawyer.” she smiled. “It’s a soulless profession, my dear. Let Pontmercy be a lawyer. Let him do it.” she cooed. “You did great, my dear. I am proud of you.” she assured.

Bossuet looked up at her. “Proud? You’re proud that I wasted our money on that class only to be taken out?” he asked, staring at her in disbelief.

“No. I am proud of you for doing a good thing for someone else.” Musichetta explained. “I am proud of you for being a good person, as you always are. You are an amazing person, my Lesgle.” she kissed the top of his head again. The two of them waited until Joly got home from his own classes and they told him what happened. Joly wasn’t upset, as Bossuet had feared. He was gentle and understanding and kind, just as sweet Joly always was. 

Days flew by in peace, Bossuet was able to spend more time with his lovers without his classes limiting his time with them. He was able to sleep in more, help Joly with his research of various sicknesses, help Musichetta cook and clean. He felt more relaxed and impossibly happier. He was beginning to think that perhaps his luck had changed. He was at a meeting, relaying the tale of how his law career ended. Courfeyrac laughed. “I can’t believe it! You actually let him strike your name off?”

“Well, there wasn’t much else I could do.” Bossuet chuckled. “I had already introduced myself as Pontmercy, I couldn’t exactly be both Pontmercy and Lesgle.” he explained.

Feuilly just shook his head. “I can’t believe you. You should’ve just claimed yourself as Pontmercy and remained in class. When the real Pontmercy showed up, you should’ve claimed him to be Lesgle.” he said.

Grantaire laughed from where he sat the next table over. “Besides, you are already Lesgles, Lesgle, L’Aigle, and Bossuet. Why not Pontmercy as well?” he grinned.

“R, come on!” Angelique complained, sitting next to the cynic. “How do you draw a star?”

Grantaire chuckled as he looked at the girl, drawing a star on the sheet of paper that they were using for Angie’s art lessons. “Five points, see? One, two, three, four, five.” he counted, pointing to each point in turn.   

Angelique nodded and did her best to copy the image Grantaire had made, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated. “One, two, three, four, five.” she repeated, drawing a shape that couldn’t really be described as anything and certainly not a star. She frowned and slammed her head against the table. “This is hard!” she whined.

Gavroche laughed and looked at the drawing. “What even is that?” he laughed loudly. “It’s not a star! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Angelique hit him with the paper. “Shut up!” she whined. 

Grantaire chuckled. “She’s learning, Gav. Give her time. Soon enough, she’ll be the new da Vinci.” he grinned.

Angelique grinned, not knowing who da Vinci was, but it sounded cool, so she went with it. “Yep, I’m gonna be the new da Vinci!” she said happily. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be a king and a painter!” she said proudly. “I’ll be the best ever!”

Grantaire laughed. “I don’t doubt it.” he smiled. “You’ll be an amazing person when you grow up.” he assured. 

Enjolras was watching them from the front table with Combeferre. He shook his head and walked towards Grantaire’s table. “Angelique, what are you doing?” he demanded. 

“Grantaire’s giving me art lessons.” Angelique said happily. “He’s been promising me he would for a while.” she explained. “He’s teaching me how to play piano too!” she grinned. “He’s the best!”

Grantaire blushed deeply. “I wouldn’t say that I’m-”

“Yeah!” Gavroche agreed. “He’s teaching us how to box, too!” he exclaimed.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes and glared at Grantaire. “I don’t think he should be teaching you those things.” he muttered. “You should learn how to read and write before anything else.”

“He’s teaching us that too!” Gavroche said. “I can write my name now, look!” he picked up the pencil and wrote his name on the sheet of paper. It was horribly messy, the letters were squeezed together and weren’t fully formed, but it was undoubtedly Gavroche’s name. “See? G, A, V, R, O, C, H, E!” Gavroche said excitedly. “Gavroche!”

Angelique nodded. “Me too!” she took the pencil from Gavroche and wrote her own name. “A,N,G,E,L,I,um...I forget what that’s called, U, E!” she proclaimed proudly. 

“Q.” Grantaire pointed to the letter in her name. “It’s called a Q.” he told her.

Enjolras glared at him. “Just because you know how to spell your own name doesn’t mean that you can read and write.” he said.

Angelique frowned. “C, H, A, T. Cat!” Angie crossed her arms before writing the word down. “I can add too!” 

Enjolras sighed. “Fine, but either way, he shouldn’t be teaching you to box.”

“Why not?” Gavroche frowned. “It’s fun.”

“He can teach you all he likes, that’s fine.” Enjolras said. “But he shouldn’t be teaching Angelique.”

“Why not?” Angelique stood up. “Is it because I’m a girl?” she spat the last word.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!” Enjolras snapped. “Girls have no business fighting, it’s improper!”

“So are a lot of things!” Angie argued. “Like trying to overthrow the government!” 

Enjolras just shook his head. “Fine, throw your life away!” he snapped, turning around and storming off. Everyone in the cafe watched as the leader stormed through the back door as Musichetta walked into the Musain. 

“Is everything alright?” Musichetta asked, seeing Enjolras’ retreating back. 

“Everything is fine.” Bossuet assured, a smile returning to his face as soon as Musichetta entered the cafe. “I was just telling our friends about why I am no longer a lawyer.” he explained.

Musichetta smiled her bright smile and took a seat in between her lovers. “That is quite a story.” she laughed.

“Indeed, it is.” Joly agreed, smiling at his mistress.

Angelique looked over at the other table, looking at Musichetta as her cheeks turned a faint pink. Gavroche looked at his friend and frowned. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you looking at Chetta?” he asked.

“She’s pretty.” Angelique said as if it explained everything. “She’s really pretty.” 

Gavroche frowned as he studied Musichetta. “I guess.” he murmured. 

Grantaire looked at the boy and smirked. “I think you’re growing green.” he chuckled.

Gavroche looked at himself. “What? Green? Where?”

Grantaire chuckled again and shook his head. “Green with envy.” he explained, looking over at Musichetta. Gavroche didn’t understand, but he didn’t question further.

The meeting continued with no other incident, speeches were made, friends shared stories and drinks, Angelique continued her art lessons. At the end of it all, Bossuet walked out with an arm around Musichetta’s waist, Joly on the woman’s other arms. The three laughed as the walked out of the cafe. Bossuet smiled, Musichetta’s head resting on his shoulder. He moved to turn towards their street when he heard a familiar name. “Monsieur Pontmercy, you left your luggage!”

Bossuet turned around to see a young, mousey looking boy turn around and accept his luggage from a man. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” the boy blushed.

Bossuet let go of Musichetta and took a step towards the boy. “Pontmercy? Did he say that your name is Pontmercy?”

The boy turned towards him, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Yes, that’s me.” he said. “Marius Pontmercy.”

“Why, you are the boy who saved me.” Bossuet said with a grin.

“I’m sorry?” the boy, Marius, looked confused. “I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

“I don’t know you either.” Bossuet assured. He quickly explained the entire story of how Bossuet assured that he would keep his seat in the class at the price of Bossuet’s own spot, he told the entire story from start to finish.

By the time he was done, Marius was laughing, a small blush on his cheeks. “You gave up your spot for me?” he asked.

Bossuet nodded. “Indeed, I did. You saved me from becoming a lawyer.” he smiled and winked at Musichetta.     

Courfeyrac came out of the Mussain, laughing with Combeferre. He paused and joined Bossuet’s conversation. When Bossuet left, Courfeyrac and Marius were still talking. Bossuet smiled, holding Musichetta’s hand in one of his own and Joly’s in the other. 

 


	8. Patron Minette

Angelique tied her hair up into a ponytail and hid it under her hat. She straightened her jacket and walked down the street, mud coating her pale skin. Gavroche was right behind her, his own hat covering his dirty blond hair, dirt and grime coating his entire body. Angie walked quicker, her breath appearing in front of her in the cold night air. She turned a corner, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. “Come on.” she called to the boy behind her.

  
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Angie.” Gavroche murmured.

  
“This isn’t the first time we’ve worked for them.” Angie rolled her eyes. “Come on, it’s just a job.”

  
Gavroche sighed. “Yeah, but a lot of people have warned us against working with them. We said we’d stop.”

  
“Yeah, but that was years ago.” Angelique rolled her eyes. “No one’s ever gonna find out. We’ve done this loads of times.”

  
“That was before they started working for my parents!” Gavroche crossed his arms. “Now we have proof that they’re bad.”  
Angelique sighed. “Gav, it’s not personal. We’ve done jobs for them for years, we have a responsibility to them.”

  
“No, we don’t!” Gavroche argued. “Now that they work for the Thenardiers, we don’t have to be loyal to them! My family is bad people, remember?”

  
“That doesn’t make the Patron Minette bad people!” Angie sighed. “We know them. Parnasse wouldn’t sell you out to your parents, besides, he’s friends with your sister.”

  
“He knows Eponine, that doesn’t make them friends.” Gavroche shook his head. “Just because he likes her, doesn’t mean that she likes him.”

  
Angelique sighed. “It’s just a job, this can be the last one.” she promised. “But we need the money and you know it.” she pointed out, rounding a corner. The children came face to face with four men, who turned around and looked at them.

  
“Look who decided to show up.” One of the men smirked. “Took them long enough.”

  
“Relax, Guelmeur, they came. That’s what’s important.” the leader stepped forward, he was obviously much younger than the others, but also very clearly in charge. He smirked at the children, standing up straighter. “So, you ready to work?”

  
Angelique nodded. “Yeah, but this our last job.” she said firmly. “Gav doesn’t wanna do it anymore because you work for his parents.”

  
The leader raised an eyebrow. “As you wish.”

  
“Thank you, Parnasse.” Gavroche mumbled.

  
Montparnasse smirked. “Alright, well if this is your last, I’mma give you a big job.” he said with a smirk.

  
Angie nodded. “Okay. We better get payed a lot, though.” she said firmly.

  
Montparnasse chuckled. “You’re not really one to be making demands, here, little one.” he smirked.

  
Angelique balled her hands into fists. “I’m not little!” she spat. “We deserve money for our work, if we do more work, we should get more money.” she crossed his arms. “You pay us good, or we don’t do the job.” she said firmly.

  
Montparnasse laughed. “Alright, if the ten year old thinks she can make demands.” he shook his head.

  
“I’m twelve!” Angie barked. “And I’m the only one who can do what you want. You know it.”

  
“Alright, you win. You’re right.” he chuckled. “You’re clever.” he smirked. “I promise, when you do this job, you’ll get a reward.” he looked over at Brujon and winked.

  
Angie nodded and smiled widely. “Alright, what’s the job?” she asked.

  
Montparnasse smirked his signature smirk. “There’s a house down the street, it’s a real nice place. I want the two of you to get in and grab as much as you can.” he crossed his arms. “Get some real nice stuff.” he started walking off. “Come on.”

  
The children followed, as did the other gang members. Gavroche looked up at the large house at the end of the block. “Who lives there?” he asked nervously.

  
Montparnasse smirked. “It doesn’t matter. That’s your job. You don’t have to worry about the person, you just have to worry about the stuff.” he said. “Just go in, steal some stuff, come back.” he shrugged.

  
“Come on, it doesn’t matter.” Angelique agreed with Montparnasse. “Let’s just do our job.” she grabbed Gavroche’s arm and pulled him through the large gates. She walked towards the giant house, dragging Gavroche behind her. She sneaked around the house and pushed opened a window. She cast a glance back at Gavroche before climbing through the window, slipping into the house before poking her head back out and looking at her friend. “Come on! Let’s go!” she hissed,venturing further into the large house. Gavroche sighed and followed her into the house, slipping through the window.

  
“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Angie.” Gavroche warned. “It’s really dangerous. This could end really badly.” he whispered, following the redhead further into the house. “And I don’t trust Montparnasse.” he crossed his arms.

  
Angelique rolled her eyes. “This will be our last job.” she assured. “After this, we won’t do anything else for the Patron Minette.” she promised. “We just have to take something really expensive.” she murmured, looking around. She ventured further into the house and looked around. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed.

  
“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” Gavroche immediately ran towards her.

  
“Check this out!” Angelique pointed to a sword that was propped against the wall.

  
Gavroche’s eyes widened, large orbs peering at the weapon. “Cool!” he murmured, gazing at the sword. “Do you think it’s real?” he looked at his friend.

  
Angelique smirked evilly. “There’s one way to find out.” she grinned and opened the glass case that the sword resided in. She took the sword and sheath out of the case, grinning widely. “Check it out.” she whispered.

  
“Angie, don’t!” Gavroche hissed under his breath. Angelique ignored her friend and pulled the weapon from its sheath, drawing it and holding it in the air. Gavroche watched her and held his breath. “Put it back!” he whispered. “You’re going to hurt someone or something!’

  
“No, I won’t.” Angie rolled her eyes, but sheathed the sword anyway. “We’ll grab it on the way out.” she decided.

  
“No, we shouldn’t take it at all!” Gavroche argued, crossing his arms.

  
Angelique shushed him, putting a hand over his mouth. “Shh. Do you want us to get caught?” she whispered. The boy quickly shook his head. “Then be quiet.” Angie hissed, removing her hand from her friend’s mouth. The children creeped through the house until entering what was obviously the bedroom. Angie ran up to an embroidered box, opening it. Her eyes widened almost comically. “Wow, look at this!” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at Gavroche. She moved aside, revealing that the box was full of jewelry, pearls, diamonds, garnets, amethysts, all sorts of precious gems. She held up a pear bracelet. “This is so cool!” she whispered. “We should take it to Montparnasse.”

  
Gavroche nodded as Angie shoved the box into his arms. He carefully slipped out of the room, noticing the sleeping figures on the large bed for the first time. He swallowed thickly and was very careful not to wake them. As they walked towards the other room, Gavroche turned to his friend. “Alright, we should go.” he whispered. “We have a bunch of expensive stuff, Montparnasse will be happy.”

  
Angelique shook her head. “I’m not leaving without the sword.” she said firmly, marching towards the weapon. She picked it up, grunting a bit from the weight. She lifted the sword onto her shoulders. “Alright, let’s go.” she said determinedly. Gavroche just rolled his eyes and climbed out of the window from which they came, clutching the jewelry box close to his chest.

  
“Come on!” he whispered, poking his head through the window. Angelique was struggling to crawl onto the window with the sword on her back. “Just leave the sword!” Gavroche hissed.

  
Angelique shook her head. “No.” she said stubbornly. “Here, you stay there and I’ll hand it to you.” she looked up at him.

  
Gavroche sighed and nodded. “Okay, fine, but hurry up.” he whispered. Angelique grinned and held up the sword to hand it to Gavroche. Gavroche reached towards the weapon, but couldn’t quite reach it. He grunted and hung out the window. “I can’t reach it!” he whispered.

  
Angelique stuck her tongue out in concentration, moving the sword up so she was barely even holding onto it as she strained towards her friend. “Come on, you’ve almost got it!” Gavroche’s fingertips brushed against the sheath of the sword and he grabbed it.

  
“I got it!” he said triumphantly. Angelique grinned and let go of the hilt, but Gavroche was only holding onto the sheath, so as soon as Angelique let go, the weapon slipped from its sheath and clattered to the ground loudly. Angie’s eyes widened as she stared up at Gavroche, who had gone pale. “Uh oh.” he whispered. The sound of footsteps approached.

  
“What’s that?! Who's there?!” a loud voice shouted.

  
Angelique looked up. “Run!” she climbed through the window, leaving the sword behind. She grabbed Gavroche’s arm, taking off down the alley.

  
“Stop! Someone! Police!” the voice followed after them. Soon, heavier footsteps were coming from in front of them.

  
“Stop right there!” a familiar voice shouted. Angelique’s eyes widened, it was a police officer that the children were very familiar with. Javert.

  
Angie thought quickly. “This way!” she pulled Gavroche into a corner, shrouding the two of them in shadow just as Javet ran passed. The children didn’t even dare breathe until he had turned the corner, then Angie pulled Gavroche along to where the Patron Minette was waiting.

  
Montparnasse looked down at the panting children. “What happened to you guys?” he smirked.

  
“Police.” Angelique said, out of breath. She brushed her hair out of her face. “We did what you asked.” she crossed her arms. “Where’s our rewards?” she outstretched her hand.

  
Montparnasse chuckled. “Not so fast, little one.” he smirked. “What do you have for me?”

  
Gavroche held out the jewelry box. “This.” he handed it to Montparnasse, who opened it.

“Not bad.” he smirked. “Not bad at all. I’m surprised.” he said, showing the rest of the gang what was inside of the box.

  
“Our reward?” Angie said expectantly.

  
Montparnasse chuckled. “Not so fast. Come on.” he led the children and the Patron Minette through the streets a little ways. He made several turns before turning to everyone. Stay here.” he ordered before turning the corner where a silhouette was visible. “Ponine?”

  
Eponine looked up from where she was sitting in the alley. “Montparnasse, there you are!” she stood up and crossed her arms. “I’ve been waiting for a long time.” she complained, brushing her hair back. “What took you so long?”

  
“Sorry, darling.” Montparnasse smirked. “Hopefully this will make up for it.” he handed her the box.

  
Eponine raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?” Montparnasse just shrugged and gestured for Eponine to open it. She did so and gasped. “Oh my god.” she took out the pearl bracelet and put it on. “Damn, this stuff is expensive.” she murmured, looking through the jewelry. “You got this for me?”

  
Montparnasse nodded. “Pretty jewelry for a pretty girl.” he purred.

  
Eponine blushed and looked away. “I’m not what anyone would call a pretty girl.” she murmured, gesturing towards her rags and the dirt on them.

  
“You’re absolutely beautiful.” Montparnasse insisted, brushing her hair out of her face. “I promise.”

  
Eponine blushed deeply and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” she whispered,

  
Montparnasse blushed deeply and grinned. “How about you come to my place?” he purred. “I'll show you how I treat pretty girls.”

  
Eponine blushed before looking up and nodding. “I’d like that.” she flirted back.

  
Montparnasse grinned. “Great. I just have to take care of something. I’ll be right back.” he went back to where everyone else was. “Great, that went well.” he grinned. “You all can leave now.” he straightened his coat and glanced back at Eponine.

  
“That’s great.” Angelique said, holding out her hand. “Now where’s our reward?” she demanded.

  
“Oh, yeah.” Montparnasse smirked. “Brujon, she’s all yours.” he turned around.

  
“What do you mean I’m al-” Angie was cut off by strong arms around her waist, lifting her into the air and throwing her over his shoulder. “Wait, what’s happening?!” she struggled. “Let me go!” she shrieked.

  
Brujon chuckled. “Let me show you how I treat pretty girls.” he murmured, shoving Angelique against a wall and slamming a hand over her mouth.

  
“Wait, stop!” Gavroche ran towards his friend, grabbing Brujon’s arm and trying to hug him off of her. The stronger man shoved the boy back, causing him to hit his head on the cobblestone. He heard Angelique scream and he saw the man press his mouth to hers before everything went black.


End file.
